A Rival School
by Hollywoodx4
Summary: Welcome to Franklin High: McKinley's newest competition. Meet Sam's new friend Devon, struggling with himself and his new job,his best friend Ally, hiding a deep secret she'd die before revealing, and more. Based on the Starkids, OC heavy.
1. Episode 1: Introductions

The bass pumped against the closed door with an audible force, old oak rocking against its misshapen frame with a resounding bang that went along with the beat to an older rap song. The only items of furniture the closed-off room had to offer were a round, rickety table and a few spare chairs made out of any material it seemed their fabricators could find. It was a small room, one with little atmosphere or class. Its pumpkin orange walls were beginning to break down, their chipping drywall a victim of the very same bass that rocked the door each night, the sounds and sights of the room often headache inducing. The conditions on the other side of the old door weren't much better either; sweaty, drunken bodies forced into one small dance floor, cups of alcohol raised above their heads. Some spilled while others attempted to sip daintily, only drops of the human ambrosia falling from their cups to the already soiled floor. A mixture of slinky heels and bare feet made their way clumsily across the floor in a half-attempted rhythm barely matching that which was blasting from the speakers. There seemed to be a new DJ every night in this club, each not wanting to stay very long in this forgotten old town. The current had been here for a while, a veteran back to reclaim his roots at the club that had gotten him started. It wasn't much, but it seemed as though at least the newer guy had brought in a crowd of people that hadn't been seen before at the club.

Sitting at the table, a blonde took a swig out of his plastic bottle selfishly, letting the cold spring water slither down his grateful, hurting throat with ease. Loose beads of water dripped down his chin and he lifted his hand immediately, wiping the sleeve of his old robe across his sweat-laden face haphazardly. His greener-hazel eyes wore an expression of tiredness, and he moved back in the old creaky chair to relax, one arm draping lazily at his side while the other gripped the bottle of water. The boy didn't want to let the treasure go, especially since he knew that his long-needed break would be over sooner than his breath would be caught. A sudden weight on the table caused the blonde to look up, intrigued. He had company in the form of a teenager much like himself, although the other boy had been working in the club longer than the blonde had. He was wearing a robe identical to the blonde's, although his was wrapped loose around him, revealing a bit of the boy's clearly defined chest. The blonde looked on in envy; Was his self-consciousness showing clearly because his robe wasn't loose, but tied tight around his waist as to keep his skin out of view? Either way, the blonde smiled through his feelings at his new companion, the only friend he'd made at the only place he could find work.

"Devon." The blonde acknowledged the other boy by name, nodding in a fashion so that his sweat-laden blonde hair dripped beads of liquid onto the table. Devon pretended not to notice, taking a small sip from his bottle and leaning his elbows on the table casually.

"Sam." He did the same head nod and returned to his water, waiting for Sam to make the next move in their conversation. When the other boy didn't, Devon sighed. He'd have to carry on the conversation if he'd want to be entertained during his break. It wasn't as if he weren't ungrateful by his new companion-he actually rather liked having someone his age to talk to while he worked. He wasn't one for silences, though, especially silences filled with the pounding of the bass to a song he'd heard one million times. "How was your first shift?"

"Rough. I didn't realize that there were this many people in Lima."

"Have you lived around here long?"

"Just a few months or so last year." Sam got up from his chair and circled it, stopping to prop his foot on its seat and inch back slowly, leaning into a stretch as a familiar feeling of relief sunk into him. Letting his head drop to his leg, he turned to the brunette across the table and really began to take in his features. His hair was shorter than Sam's, spiked up a bit in the front to reveal more of his face. Devon's chin was laden with stubble that bumped his age up a few years than it actually was, while his bright blue eyes shone with an aloof gaze that never truly seemed to meet more than the water rippling in its container. He sighed and rose from his chair to join Sam, mimicking the stretch with ease. He had done this routine many nights while this was one of Sam's first.

"So how did you get this job? It's not exactly the most glamorous, I mean." Sam caught a glint of something in Devon's eyes, but it had gone before he could examine it. Switching his stretch to the opposite leg, Sam sighed.

"It's a long story, really. My family and I lived here last year but it didn't really work out and we lost out on a lot of money, so we moved back to Texas. Texas wasn't much better of a situation, and I mean we tried to make it something that it wasn't. My grandparents left a while ago, so there was nothing back there for us anymore. I guess our hearts were stuck on this stupid town." He paused for a minute, recalling the things about Lima he had grown to love in his time there. He shook it off and fogged his mind. Dwelling on the past wouldn't help his current situation. If anything, it'd make it worse. "Now I'm just trying to make ends meet for the family. It's not much, but at least it's helping, right?" Sam laughed a dry, forced laugh and wiped another round of sweat from his forehead, turning his nose up in disgust at the now completely soiled sleeve of his robe. "What about you? What's your story?"

"Respect. It doesn't sound like much, but I just wanted to be good at something, you know? Impress a few people. I know this is probably the most shitty way to try and get respect, but it was sort of on a whim, I guess. Some sort of late night decision I hadn't really thought through. I don't know, though. It may not be the best job, but the money that comes from it is worth it."

"Makes you get used to yourself too, huh?"

"I guess you could say that. The tips are like your confidence boost; the more you get the happier you are. There are nights I haven't gotten any, though, and those are the worst. Those are the nights…" He pauses, running his calloused hand over his hair in thought. "I shouldn't hang around on things like that, though. It's not important." The lights flickered through the cracks of the door and the music began to quiet, signaling the boys to take their places. The new comrades glanced at each other warily, the veteran and the newbie, and found their places behind the stage. Devon turned to give Sam a high five and then the music changed. His cue being first, Devon sauntered onto the stage with a well rehearsed show-face, winking at the girls in his little audience before slipping out of his robe. His costume consisted of a well-fitting pair of boxer shorts, ones he had laughed at the first time he'd worn them. The way he moved in them caused them to sparkle against the bright spotlight, sending dozens upon dozens of shimmering reflections to the audience. The only other thing he wore was a matching bowtie, secured by an elastic that fit snug around his neck. After a while, this had become Devon's persona, his comfort. The second he felt the strange material of his shimmering shorts hit his body he was transformed into someone different; someone who wasn't afraid of dancing unclothed in front of an audience. Someone who actually enjoyed it.

He danced slowly and seductively on the stage, being sure to pause toward the front of the stage in hopes of collecting tips. As he felt the elastic of his pants being pulled to let in the stray dollar bills the girls could collect, Sam joined him. He was a bit more hesitant, unsure of where to stop and what to do when he got there. The veteran shook his hips, taunting the girls who had turned to watch him. He danced and paraded, making a show of something he had complained about just seconds before. Sam watched in amusement, taking mental notes. He'd have to do a lot better to generate tips next to this guy.

As the crowd dispersed and the show came to a close, the boys went back to the pumpkin orange room to gather their stuff, tired bodies barely moving along the scuffed hardwood of the club. Devon took off immediately to the bathroom, gathering his old gym bag and taking out a pair of clean work out clothes. After slipping them on along with a pair of aberrantly dirtied running shoes, he ran the faucet. The water was a bit cold for his liking, but running late as he was he murmured to himself. He'd just have to deal with it. Splashes of water met the spaces under his arms, and a v-shape was being created at his chest. With each new splash of water he dared not look at himself in the mirror. This wasn't something he was proud of.

He stopped his old car in his driveway and turned off the engine. He could tell that his mother was waiting for him by the signal of the light on their porch. Groaning in frustration, he let his head drop to his steering wheel. Sitting in his car alone at night wouldn't chase away the demons in his mind. Then again, he'd always been horrid at solving problems. Hell, Devon Rogers had always been mediocre at everything.

Reluctantly he began to move, his sore muscles nearly giving out under the sudden weight of his body. Progressing to his porch, a light from a neighboring house caught his eye. His breath hitched and his interest shifted to the other light. She was still awake. From her window, his neighbor could see him coming home. The thin, pretty brunette poked her head out of the window and chuckled a light, bell-like sound.

"Hey, Devon! Haven't you worked out enough for a decade?" Her voice caught him off guard and he smiled, looking up at her window with ease. He'd come to love that window, even the house itself. There was something comforting about the blue paint and the old farmer's porch he'd frequented.

"I don't know, I think I still have a little bit left in me."

"Well don't sleep in tomorrow, we have a big day, remember? You _promised _you'd come."

"I wouldn't miss it." With this reassurance the girl gave him one last wave, turning on her heel and letting her shoulder-length brown hair whip around her shoulder. He watched until she disappeared from his view, the light of her bedroom soon flicking off and the shades drawn. Devon continued the path to his house in a silence that brought upon a strange, closed-throat feeling. Something about himself had begun to feel different, to feel wrong. He didn't like who he was.

The catchy pop song that blared from Devon's old alarm clock was a bit much for the grumpy teenager the next morning. Rolling over in his bed, his gaze was immediately drawn to the window. The sun was woefully missing from this view, and this only made his head reconnect with his pillow in frustration. Having a job while attending high school was proving harder than Devon had originally guessed, especially since his was unusual and rigorous on his already toned body. As he began to shift his weight to rise from bed, his muscles jerked and pulled him in every direction in protest. Something about last night had made him work twice as hard to earn tips. Perhaps, he thought, it was the new guy taking on his territory. He'd never felt so threatened in his position until he'd seen the clearly defined Ken-doll blonde step through the door. What he did feel was a tug at the pit of his stomach, a dropping almost. More than anything, Devon felt the need to prove himself. To whom he didn't know, only that this new goal had become more important to him than anything he'd felt before.

He set the steam of the shower higher to calm his nerves and stepped in, watching as the scalding water danced along his skin, leaving red marks in their trails. He was always fascinated with the way the water seemed to glide; how something so soft could hurt him so badly, so intensely. Nonetheless he continued his shower, humming the same pop tune that'd woken him up quietly to himself. As much as he pretended to be indifferent toward the cookie cutter type of music, something about it drew him in, made him wonder. Something about it was special to him, and yet he couldn't recall why its repetitive verses called to him, causing him to dance jubilantly and sing along to its lyrics in full voice.

A sing-song sound interrupted him as he was combing his hair, and he immediately stopped his singing, turning the radio town to unveil its source. Now fully dressed, Devon threw his comb aside before opening his door slowly, not wanting to disturb the noise's source. In his mind, he began guessing what it could be. There was Jester, his old, reliable dog that could be causing a ruckus. Along with him, though, there was his little sister Holly, just three years old and always involuntarily causing problems for the family. He'd never minded her, though. She was one of the best things to happen to the family.

Poking his head out of the bathroom door he was met with a pair of bright brown eyes belonging to a girl who had made herself comfortable on his bed. She dangled upside-down, her head just barely missing his carpeted floor. Her eyes were shut and her headphones were in her ears, and as she lay she sang quietly to herself. Her hands were poised on her stomach in the position of a true singer, prepared to check and correct the way she was breathing. Her phone sat still on her lap and she had begun to daze off, disappearing to her thoughts and her music as she waited. Devon chuckled upon the sight and came out of the bathroom, walking quietly as to not disturb the pretty brunette. Her eyes, which he knew as a deep chocolate brown, were closed in concentration. Her voice rang across his room in a bright soprano, and he could easily tell that she didn't care if she was caught singing or not. She'd never been shy a day in her life.

Devon crossed the room to gather his hat, and after pulling it onto his head he stopped in front of her, creating a shadow in front of her face. She'd clearly noticed the change of lighting, opening her eyes and grinning upon seeing his face. Rising happily to greet Devon she paused only once to collect her bearings-she'd gotten up too fast and had to sit back down from vertigo. He chuckled and moved toward her, opening his arms to pull her into a hug.

"Hey Al, you ready for the big day?"

"Never been more ready in my life. I've seriously been singing this song for days on end, I feel like I'm going to kill this audition!" The girl grabbed her backpack from the floor and followed Devon out the door, stopping only to throw a goodbye to his mother and little sister. She threw her bag in the backseat of his car and sat in the passenger's side, tiny frame practically bouncing with excitement. This was a large difference to Devon, who sluggishly moved to turn the key in the ignition and back out of his driveway. Sometimes, Allyson Wesley made him feel as though the whole world was on slow-motion compared to her rapid movements and spit-fire ways. "Did you sleep good?"

She had noticed the sluggishness of his movements and sighed. He had been increasingly drowsy lately, and as his best friend she had gotten nothing to explain the fact besides his late night work out sessions. He shook his head and yawned, the involuntary action even more proof of his words.

"I thought you said you were going right to bed when we talked last night, what happened?"

"I don't know; homework, life. The usual, Alls." His tone had become darker, one filled with drowsiness and a hint of anger that darkened Ally's mood upon hearing it. Reaching over, she let her hand rest on his shoulder.

"I'm just worried about you, Dev. You can pretend that the lack of sleep you've been getting doesn't bother you but I know you, you've always needed more sleep than a normal human being." She threw a sly smirk his way, trying to diffuse the tension she knew she'd unwillingly caused.

"And _you,_" He moved his hand from the wheel to jostle her lightly in her seat. She laughed before he continued "never sleep. At all. I don't know where you get it but sometimes it seriously scares me."

"I was born with caffeine in my blood, Devon. Don't be jealous. But…in all seriousness, just…_try _to get some sleep soon, ok? Go to the nurse and sleep on a stupid cot for all I care. I just want you to be healthy." By this point the pair had pulled into school and Devon turned to see Ally staring right back at him. He could tell she was serious by the way her eyes shone with worry, her brows furrowed in concern. Before he could move to tell her that he'd be alright Ally cleared her throat, collecting her bag from the back seat before retreating from his car.

Franklin High was one of the nicer schools in the area, although it was still high school, which frankly made a large number of its inhabitants form opinions of intolerance toward it. Franklin was also the only high school in quite a way, which made it the epicenter for around three of the area's small surrounding towns. This being said, it was quite easy to lose oneself in the sea of students, most of which hadn't met each other once. In an area like this, it was an amazing occurrence to have such large class sizes. But for many this meant opportunity to find a group they truly belonged in.

The thing Layla Tam loved most about Franklin upon her arrival a few days prior to this was the fact that she hadn't been recognized school-wide as 'the new girl.' It was only in the classes she attended where attention had been drawn to her, and even then half of her classmates had thought she was just a transfer from another class instead of another state. She liked Franklin because it would be easy to blend in, easy to create a new start for herself without the fuss of being shown around and coddled like a baby. She adored Franlin's art program, which she knew had been nationally acclaimed. She knew because she'd been in competitions with members of the school before, and they'd been the hardest to beat. But now she'd be one of them, and Layla had never been happier to make the move to a new place.

Third period math had been a struggle to find her first day, and as she scanned the halls while walking there, she realized with a start that there was not a familiar face in sight. At least if there had been she could've followed them to class, but now, glancing across the sea of people warily, she realized that she was all alone. She stopped in her tracks, unsure of what to do next. She could ask someone for directions, but she'd already been told that a majority of the students liked to confuse people like her with wrong directions for fun. Instead, she opted for checking the map she'd printed off the night before her first day. As she bent her head to look at the piece of paper, she felt something jolt her from behind.

"Watch it, freshman. I know this school is bigger than the little playpen you came from but that doesn't mean you should still be getting lost. It's November." Layla looked up as a shadow crossed over her paper. The owner of the low, accusing voice was standing over her, holding his tough façade while a group of his friends laughed along with him. "Or are you just fucking dumb?" Layla couldn't think of anything to say to him. His long, skater-like hair was covered with a beanie while he was nearly tripping over his pants. They were belted, yes, but they only reached the bottom of his butt. Casting her glance downward, Layla chuckled to herself. She'd always found it amusing that teenage boys today couldn't seem to figure out how to belt their pants.

"Hey!" The boy in front of her continued, knocking her textbooks from her arms so that they collapsed on top of her flat-adorned feet. She winced in pain but didn't move to pick the books up. At this point she realized she was probably in danger, living out every cliché new girl experience she'd been praying Franklin would hide her from. "I'm talking to you, Freshman." He was coming closer to her now, moving the curly brown hair from her ears so he could half-whisper into it. "The least you could do is answer me." His voice sent shivers down her spine, but they were not induced by pleasure. A disturbed feeling had set into her stomach and she looked around for teachers the second she'd felt it. They wouldn't try to do anything to her here, right? As the boy stood in front of her she assessed her situation. The only thing she had with her she figured she could use to injure them was her violin, but even then she deduced that it could only do so much damage before she would be doomed. As she reached to open her case, though, she was interrupted by another male voice, this one coming from behind her.

"Don't you have anything better to do, Asher? Why don't you go smoke another round? You're already dumb as fuck so I'm sure you don't have to worry about it making you worse of a person than you already are." Layla's head swiveled at lightning speed upon hearing the voice, and she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. This person was here to help her. Asher, her tormenter, stepped past her to reach the guy who had just stood up for her. Next to him, Asher looked small and relatively defeated. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something but it shut almost as soon as it had opened and he spun on his heel, the chains on his pants jingling in an ironically jolly way as he walked away. Switching her gaze from Asher, she finally got a glimpse of the guy who had saved her.

He was tall, taller than even Asher, who had seemingly towered over her. Layla knew she wasn't short, so seeing someone who seemed tall to her was a new discovery. He wasn't large, but almost buff, built like a football player although she guessed that he wasn't one. She knew that a lot of the football players in the school were meaner than he was. His hair was sandy blonde and his clothes were moderate; a plaid shirt and a reliable pair of jeans.

"So, are you a freshman or are you just new?" Coming from any other person Layla would take this as an insult, but somehow from him it felt like a genuine question.

"Just new. I transferred here a few days ago. My sister's a senior, I'm a sophomore." She smiled as he bent down to pick up the books the punk had swept from her hands. Before she could protest he began walking and gestured for her to follow, carrying her books for her as they walked down the hallway. "What about you?"

"I'm a junior. _My _sister's a freshman."

"Oh, that's nice. Do you just have a sister?"

"I have a brother too but he's only thirteen. It's alright though because it makes me feel a lot older than I am, having to give advice to him. Although half of the time he doesn't want any part of it."

"Oh, an independent is he?"

"He's just a little ladies man, that's all. One of those fake skaters who can only do one trick. I told him to be careful, though. I don't want him ending up like that asshole who was just harassing you."

"Thanks for that, by the way." She didn't know where he was taking her, but she assumed they were in the right place. This hallway seemed more familiar to her, at least. The bell had rung but Layla's guide stayed with her, taking small glances at her every so often in a way that made hints of fuchsia creep onto her cheeks. "Who was he?"

"Asher Brown. I went to elementary and middle with him. Total nice guy there, but the year before high school everything just…changed. He was different, and nobody really knew why. The usual crowd he hung out with didn't even know, they only knew that he'd changed for the worse." They were now nearing an ajar door that was definitely familiar to Layla, and she grew sad at the thought that she'd have to leave her companion so soon. He led her into the classroom, though, and as she found her seat he talked to her teacher. It seemed as though her teacher knew him, because they were now chatting casually, as if they were old friends. On his way out, the guy stopped at her desk for a brief second.

"I'm Oliver, by the way." And then he was gone.

Ally never did like stress. Of the few things she turned her nose toward, stress seemed to be the worst with her. Sometimes she thought it enjoyed chasing her around, mocking her for setting her bar too high or being too ambitious. She didn't mind, though. A new challenge was a great challenge, and just another adventure to take on. Just another thing that would get her out of this town as soon as possible. When the final bell rang she made a beeline for the theater, pausing only to wait for Devon, who'd be her moral support for the day.

"How'd your day go? Are you still 'No Nerve Ally?" Devon smirked and bumped Ally playfully, causing her to laugh and grip onto his arm for support. When her grip tightened around hard muscle, Ally pulled her hand back in surprise. She wasn't used to her Devon having so much muscle. Hell, she wasn't used to Devon having _any _muscle. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though. She just felt as if it were too sudden, too forced.

"Maybe I'm a bit nervous today, but it won't be like last year, I can tell you that. It's only because this is really _really _important to me. More than anything, really."

"Alls, it's just the school glee club. I mean, you're a shoe-in obviously. You're way better than anybody in this town-in this state, really. You're going to make it so far. You have nothing to worry about with this audition. They'd be crazy not to take you. And if they don't? Well, it's their loss." They had reached the door of the theater at this point and Ally was grinning ear to ear. Praise from Devon meant more to her than she knew he'd ever guess. She stood on her toes and reached up to wrap her arms around him in a thankful hug, breathing in his familiar scent before reaching for the handle of the door. Taking a deep breath, she looked over at her best friend one last time. He'd be watching from the back of the stage, but the lights would prevent her from being fully comforted by his presence. Devon smiled and lifted both of his thumbs up, sending her a cheesy, dimpled smile before watching her walk into the room.

Layla had stumbled into the theater by chance, walking into a much fancier looking seating arrangement and stage than she'd seen at any of her other schools. Glancing around she guessed that this theater sat at least 800 people, and two rows in the front were already filled with anxious students. She tried to guess what it was, but in vain. Most of the students filled the musical stereotype, but there were a few scattered teens that looked as if they had no idea why they were there, only focusing on whatever goal they were about to attempt to attain.

"Excuse me miss, you need to take the next available seat. Auditions will start soon." A woman had come up behind her-a teacher, she'd guessed-and had begun to lightly push her toward the next row of empty seats.

"But I, I'm-"

"Oh hush, you'll be fine darling. I've seen many a performer do their best after overcoming pre-audition nerves. You have nothing to worry about." With nothing to do but oblige, Layla sat in the plush red seat and awaited her turn. Another girl had taken the seat next to her and was texting on her phone, looking disinterested.

"Are you ready for your audition?" The girl next to Layla turned, her head held high. She was taller, with short auburn hair and a demeanor that caused Layla to regret speaking to her in the first place.

"Of course I am. I've had my song picked out for ages. My father says I'm best when I sing Broadway, but I really just think I have several strong suits and not just one." Layla was taken off guard by the girl's presence. She seemed to be larger than life, and yet there was something about her that seemed off. Something…_fake. _"Oh, I'm _so _sorry, how rude of me. I'm Vera Brooks. You may have heard of me?"

"I'm Layla. And sorry, I haven't. I'm new here though, so that might be why."

"Oh, a newbie! This'll be great Lila, just you wait. I'll show you the ropes around here in no time. And hey, maybe if you're lucky you'll get a spot in the glee club and be able to sing under my solos." Layla merely crossed her legs, unsure of what to say to such a rude comment and mistaken name. Luckily, though, she was saved for the second time that day.

"Layla! Hey, come sit over here." A tiny brunette in skinny jeans and ballet flats had just taken a seat behind the pair and gestured to the seat next to her wildly. Layla complied, sending an apologetic look to Vera before smiling gratefully at her new savior. As she glanced back, Vera was glaring at the other girl. Clearly, something had made Vera angry. When the other girl noticed Vera's look she simply shook her head, a simple air of disbelief crossing her pretty features.

"Don't mind her, she just has this arbitrary hatred toward me. I don't know how or why it started, but it's been like that since the sixth grade."

"I don't want to be rude, but has she…always been like that?" The girl laughed, nodding immediately. The seats around them were filling quicker now and Layla was shocked. Apparently the hype she'd heard about Franklin's glee club had been true. It _was _a big deal.

"That's just Vera, don't mind her. She's truly a brand of her own. I'm Ally, by the way. You're new?"

"I just transferred from a school over in North Dakota a few days ago." They were interrupted by the clicking of heels on the stage. In an instant, the female figure standing in front of the group of teenagers had completely transformed the atmosphere of the room from excited and chatty to disciplined and intense. Even the veterans sat stark straight in their seats, all in almost identical positions. They'd clearly been whipped into shape by this female presence.

"We'll start with the front row and work our way back. Please have your accompaniment ready for our pianist. We'll post the final list by Thursday, first rehearsal will be Friday after school in the choir room. I would wish you luck, but luck has nothing to do with it." The shiny black heels clicked across the stage once more and a thin, perfectly manicured finger pointed to the first row of students, specifically at an awkward, skittish freshman girl.

The girl stood center stage and fiddled with her hands, looking away from her audience with nervous anxiety. Often she stared down at her own feet, and Layla could tell from the audience's countenances that they were becoming bored quite easily. It made her stomach churn thinking about the time her turn would come.

"So…you have to audition in front of everyone?" She turned to Ally once the freshman was done with her slow, lackluster performance, her brown eyes filled with unmistakable stage fright. She tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear and shifted in her seat, clearly not looking forward to her moment on stage.

"Grenwich-the woman you saw on the stage that made everyone sit up in their chairs-she's tough, especially around auditions. She says it's better to see how a person performs in front of a full house so that she gets the complete package; an amazing voice and an impeccable performer. I've heard she's a lot less strict in rehearsals, though. She has to be tough to get the best from Franklin." Ally talked about Regina Grenwich with a sort of sparkle in her eyes, a hope, almost. Something about the woman in the pointed high heels and pencil skirts made Ally sit even more erect in her chair, her eyes focusing on the woman's visage as she watched the people auditioning.

"So I'm guessing you've been in this before?"

"Not in Glee club, no. I was too nervous to function last year and completely gave up. Didn't even make it four steps into the room. I mean, I was a freshman, I had no idea what this was going to be like. I've been rehearsing for two weeks now, though, so I'm thinking-hoping- that this year will be different." Layla and Ally talked throughout the torturous auditions and watched in silence during the astonishing ones. To say the least Layla was happy; she'd finally made a friend at Franklin high. Now all she had to do was figure out her audition song.

Ally sat to her left, and as the line of people between them and the stage thinned, she became increasingly interested in hearing the girl's singing voice. But before Ally could go, Vera was first. She sauntered onto the stage like she owned it and stood dead center, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she began to sing. Her movements were jumpy and rigid, as if she'd rehearsed a bit too much. Her supposedly soulful rendition of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" was nothing short of awkward. Her voice was nice, but she was clearly an alto, and the song pushed at the peak of her range, her voice airy and the notes becoming flat toward its furthermost height. Quite frankly, the whole thing was seeming overdone, her movements and shaky voice the epitome of the majority of auditions Layla had been forced to sit through. Vera seemed to disagree, though, because when she finished her last note her grin was set from ear to ear, and she curtseyed and waved before exiting the stage. In her pompous manner, she walked to the back of the theater and thanked everyone for watching and the few that complimented her singing.

Ally took the stage five auditions later. Her smile was modest and she pushed the grand piano to the center of the stage, scanning the audience and being sure to smile at all of them; mostly Grenwich, who sat at a table in the middle of the theater. She began playing the grand, a soft, familiar tune resonating through the theater. The audience seemed to fall silent as they watched her. Something about her presence was captivating.

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn. That's alright because I like the way it hurts. Just gonna stand there and hear me cry, that's alright because I love the way you lie." Her voice was soft to begin with, her soprano a perfect match for the song. As she sang she floated in and out of reality, getting into the song that she'd chosen at the last minute on a whim. The song that'd become something much more to her than just a pretty melody.

Ally had spent the day before taking a chunk of the song away and adding her own gusto, going with her gut in changing the way it would be. She didn't want to rap-she figured she was already bad enough at it, which took away a portion of the song. She changed the words to fit her situation and added verses that fit her rendition of the song, verses that moved and diminished along with her feelings. Words that moved like the edd and flow of an ocean in the calm before the storm. Her experience had given her talent, although nobody but herself knew exactly what it was she sang about, which hardships she had gone through to get where she was. And if she had it her way, Ally would die before letting anybody know what she'd gone through.

The theater was silent when she finished and she stood up, unsure of what to do. Before leaving center stage, she nodded to the audience, glancing at Grenwich in search of a reaction. As her gaze moved to the back of the theater she could see Devon standing, two thumbs raised in the air.

Thursday of that week set panic in the minds of the hopeful high-schoolers that had auditioned. With a group of so many choices, it was becoming harder and harder to get into the club with each passing year, and _everybody _at Franklin knew it. The list was famous for being posted in strange places. It was one of the quirks of Grenwich that made her so admired and yet simultaneously irritating. Once the first person found it, though, word of its location spread about the school like wildfire. The list was one of the most infamous traditions of Franklin high, and one that set the most anxiety in its students. The mystery often internally killed the students who were unable to find it.

Ally was one of the last to know, approached by Layla in the hallway. She was walking as fast as she could, weaving in between the crowds of people who refused to move from her path. As she grew closer she began to call Ally's name, and the girl turned to find Layla right next to her.

"Ally, did you see the list? I found it!" Upon hearing the illusive name she paused, gripping Layla's shoulders.

"You saw? Was I…on it?"

"I don't know, I didn't check. I wanted to see if you'd found it before checking. I'm too nervous to check by myself."

"Well where is it? We can go together." Layla led Ally down the halls, into a wing she'd never even been in before. Layla had been roaming in hopes of finding a bathroom when she's stumbled upon the golden sheet of paper.

Ally stepped up to the list, her finger tracing a line down the column of names. Some she'd seen, while others were completely new to her. At this point, she was only looking for an a, and when she came across the letter it felt as though her heart stopped and then sank; it wasn't her name. Her brown eyes continued to scan the list hungrily; this meant more to her than anything.


	2. Episode 2: Moments

Previously on Franklin High:

_"Devon." The blonde acknowledged the other boy by name, nodding in a fashion so that his sweat-laden blonde hair dripped beads of liquid onto the table. Devon pretended not to notice, taking a small sip from his bottle and leaning his elbows on the table casually._  
><em> "Sam."<em>

_"Hey, Devon! Haven't you worked out enough for a decade?" Her voice caught him off guard and he smiled, looking up at her window with ease. He'd come to love that window, even the house itself. There was something comforting about the blue paint and the old farmer's porch he'd frequented._  
><em> "I don't know, I think I still have a little bit left in me." <em>  
><em> "Well don't sleep in tomorrow, we have a big day, remember? You promised you'd come." <em>  
><em> "I wouldn't miss it."<em>

_"Hey!" The boy in front of her continued, knocking her textbooks from her arms so that they collapsed on top of her flat-adorned feet. She winced in pain but didn't move to pick the books up. At this point she realized she was probably in danger, living out every cliché new girl experience she'd been praying Franklin would hide her from. "I'm talking to you, Freshman." He was coming closer to her now, moving the curly brown hair from her ears so he could half-whisper into it. "The least you could do is answer me." _

_"Don't you have anything better to do, Asher? Why don't you go smoke another round?"_

_"I transferred here a few days ago. My sister's a senior, I'm a sophomore."_

_"I'm Oliver, by the way." _

_"My father says I'm best when I sing Broadway, but I really just think I have several strong suits and not just one." _

_"That's just Vera, don't mind her. She's truly a brand of her own. I'm Ally, by the way. You're new?"_  
><em> "I just transferred from a school over in North Dakota a few days ago."<em>

_Ally stepped up to the list, her finger tracing a line down the column of names. Some she'd seen, while others were completely new to her. At this point, she was only looking for an a, and when she came across the letter it felt as though her heart stopped and then sank; it wasn't her name. Her brown eyes continued to scan the list hungrily; this meant more to her than anything._

_(...)_

Vera sat in her chair in the choir room, scanning the vicinity with her vindictive brown eyes. Around her, pairs and trios of people passed, stopping only to see if there was a grouping empty chairs large enough for their number. By now the group of twenty or thirty students was used to each other, having to play the obligatory 'getting to know you' games the first meeting. By now they knew who they clashed with and who they got along with, and if they hadn't found a new friend, they knew where they could look.

Ally was to the right of Vera's vision, and every time she looked over there was a new freshman hanging on her words. It sickened Vera. For some reason, it was Ally everyone seemed to be talking about, not her. Ally's audition; the one with the overused rap song without the rap, not her soulful audition song that should have blown the house down. Quite frankly, she didn't understand. But she was determined to fix it. Whenever she saw the perky brunette, she seemed to be with one of two people. The first was the same girl she'd met at the auditions; Lilly or Lyla or something like that. The second was a taller than average male, who seemed to be with her most of the day. As of now the three stood together, chatting while they waited for Mrs. Grenwich, their director, to come into the classroom and start rehearsal. She was surprised the guy was in the room with Ally; Grenwich wouldn't be happy to see an outsider in the room even before rehearsal.

"She's not going to be happy, you know." Devon shook his head, leaning against the wall. Ally had been prodding him to leave since he had walked her to rehearsal. He simply laughed in return, causing her to put her hands on her hips and look at him sternly. "I mean it! She's not as fun as I've been describing her. I'm just used to being disciplined from dance and voice lessons."

"Al, relax. She'll be fine, I'll leave before she even notices I'm here."

"I agree with Ally on this one, Devon. She's strict. If she sees you, you won't last ten seconds." Layla smirked, half joking with Devon. Again he just shook his head, stubborn as ever.

"Don't you have to go to work?" At the mention of his job he felt a jolt, looking down in guilt a second before composing himself, looking back at Ally with a playful smirk.

"Not until later tonight. Besides, what else am I going to do before then?"

"I don't know, homework?" The bell rang and twenty-something students rushed to their seats, looking over toward the doorway in anticipation of the female figure that would be arriving in any second. Devon sat next to Ally, but not without a fight. She had tried in vain to push him out of the door, but when he wouldn't budge she moved to sit, only to find that he was following her. She shot him a look and sat in her seat, pretending not to know him so she wouldn't get in trouble. He looked over and laughed; Ally had always been serious about performing, and this was her at her finest.

Grenwich entered in an almost ghostly manner, dancing across the floor with the only the click of her high heeled shoes as an accompaniment. Around Devon, the students sat a little taller in their chairs, held their heads a little higher. He mimicked their movement and was blending in just nicely; Grenwich was busy helping another student at the front of the room, who looked once across the sea of straight faces with nervous anxiety.

"We have some late additions to the club, as I'm sure you've noticed by now. The first I see had already made himself comfortable, Mr. Rogers." She pointed to Devon and he turned to wave to the surrounding chairs, stopping last at Ally whose mouth was agape. Before she could say anything, though, Grenwich continued.

"Also, this is Miss Jenna Anderson." The girl who had been standing beside Grenwich turned to face the crowd and waved. She was clutching a book to her chest and she hoisted her shoulder bag up a bit more as she moved to find a seat. Reluctantly, she took the only one that was open and sat, seeming rather uncomfortable in her new environment.

"Sectionals are fast approaching, and we have a lot of work to do. First I'd like to tell you who we're facing this time around." The teacher pulled a manila envelope from her bag and took out the first sheet of white paper, putting on a pair of reading glasses and clearing her throat before continuing. "The New Directions from McKinley, The Troubletones from McKinley and The Warblers from Dalton Academy. Now from what I understand two out of these three groups will be tough, and that's the New Directions and the Dalton group. Dalton's known for their tight harmonies but we have that, and we have McKinley's well-known spirit. All we need to do is get our best leads into place and work a little harder and I'm sure we'll have this competition easily. That's why I'm asking for Ally as lead solo and Emily, Layla, Seth, and James as our group number leads. I understand that we still need to finalize our set list, but we'll be doing that this week as we try out our songs with these combinations. If you have any questions just ask." She paused for a moment, scanning her glee club in thoughtful wonderment. After a while she shrugged, moving away from the piano. "I'm leaving rehearsal to you for five minutes while I look for some sheet music for us to try out tomorrow. I want you to start stretching; It's dancing day."

When Devon looked over at Ally again she was grinning from ear to ear, talking in an attempted hushed voice to Layla, who bore a similar expression. He smiled and patted her back, moving to the floor to begin stretching.

As the bell rang Oliver was pulled from his thoughts, happily packing his bag and making his way out of Franklin's front door. Physics had never been his favorite class-he'd always considered himself more of a poet than a science man-and getting out of it set a new happiness inside of him. He had spent the last few days looking for the girl he had 'saved' in the hallway. He didn't know why…hell, he didn't even realize that he was looking for her until just a few days prior. He just always seemed to be scanning the hallways and the campus, looking for her curly head of hair and shyer mannerisms. He wanted to know more about her; who she was, what kinds of things she liked.

He liked to write poetry in his spare time. Mostly he wrote about life; about occurrences and history and human nature. They were his favorite topics because they were most relevant to himself and the things he liked to do. He liked to people watch at a café down the street from the high school and was never really a good sleeper. He was someone who got stuck on the little things and could never really get past them; a bottle cap collector who'd never really had the heart to stop. But to him, it was the little things that mattered the most. So that afternoon, when he sat down in that same little café to write, it was the same head of curly brown hair that got in his way. Instead of tuning her out of his vision, he let her in, and the words never flowed so smoothly from his pen.

(…)

Devon didn't want to go to work that night-glee club had made him tired and now he wanted nothing more than to just go home and rest. But he still went, tugging along the same athletic duffel bag he brought each night; the one containing his 'uniform' and his fake work out clothes. When he got there the new guy was already sitting at their break table, looking more ready than he had the first night they worked together. He was getting better, and as much as Devon hated to admit it he was beginning to see the blonde generate an increasing amount of tips; maybe even more than he had. But there was no internal jealously for once; they had a common bond, Devon and Sam. Two teenagers working in an Ohio club looking for something in the only place left. Somehow, they had become friends in their late nights working together. Devon attributed it to the fact that they were so much alike, but also to the reasoning that this job had brought them together, had made them form a strange sort of bond. So he stood across from Sam and began to stretch, feeling his aching muscles pulse from the level of activity he pushed himself through from adding glee to his list of things to do.

"Little sore there, Devon?" Sam had noticed his companion straining himself and begun to worry. He seemed tired, run down almost.

"Yeah, just off my game. I joined the glee club at my school to impress a girl and it turns out our director is dead set on winning. She's been pushing us really hard so we win sectionals."

"Grenwich?" Devon was genuinely surprised upon hearing the right name. He knew that Franklin's glee club was a little more well known than others, but he hadn't realized what sort of scale he had joined.

"How did you hear about her?"

"Everyone knows who she is. I was talking to an old friend from McKinley and they're already preparing to kick your asses at sectionals this year. Fair warning." Devon smiled at the taunting. He knew that Franklin would be ready whatever circumstances came across.

"Do you miss them, your friends at McKinley?"

"A lot. Some more than others, I think. The whole group was small- The glee club, I mean-So I feel like we were a bit more tight knit. I miss a lot about it, but I guess it was something I had to do."

The boys went on the stage that night with anxious, upset hearts; Sam's churning over his friends, Devon's over his guilt. As they danced, though, Devon noticed a change in Sam's features; a look of recognition crossing his face. A younger looking girl, one around their age, was making her way to the stage. Her brown eyes were cast down to the floor in a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and her tiny hand thrust a doller forward. Sam leaned in to talk to her.

From his place behind his friend Devon moved forward cautiously, meeting the girl's eyes for a brief moment before she looked away. The music blasted around them and Devon had to strain his voice, moving his face toward Sam's ear so the other boy could hear him.

"You go ahead, I've got this crowd." Sam turned to Devon with a look of appreciation, patting him on the back before he and the girl moved to the break room to talk. A taller male followed, clearly not knowing what to think about the situation.

When Devon joined the trio five minutes later they were laughing. The girl was draped on the shoulder of an unfamiliar guy, the one he had seen following them. As Sam noticed Devon, he gestured to an empty seat, handing him a water bottle from a small cooler in the corner of the room.

"Devon, this is Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson, from my old school."

"Ah, the kiss that missed, right?" Sam's companions merely stared at Devon for a while, and he tried to laugh it off. Clearly, his charm had shut off temporarily. "Sectionals?"

"I try to forget it, thanks." The guy, Finn, was the first to break another long silence, putting his head in his hand and rolling his eyes.

"I still think it was a pretty good move on your part. If I was given an opportunity to do something like that to win a girl over, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Sectionals win or no win, as long as I got the girl I'd be happy. So….props." Finn smiled. It was as if he were finally being appreciated for his big move. Finally, he was being _understood._

"Well, I was a little mad at first but after a while I realized that it was a good thing. It thrust me into the internet spotlight-there's a lot of people being discovered there now, you know-and helped me make the right choice of guy." Devon nodded in appreciation, his gaze wavering between the short brunette and her giant guy of a boyfriend. In some aspects, they reminded him of himself and Ally. She was short like Rachel, that he could see. She was ambitious like her, but a bit more controlled in her words and actions toward others. Devon didn't really know much about Rachel Berry than what he'd heard in his few short days as a Franklin glee club member, but what he'd heard hadn't been good. And he knew Ally wouldn't hurt a fly, so there was one difference.

When they said goodbye to Sam's friends, the two were left alone packing their things after a long, tiring work shift. Sam seemed distant, even more so than usual. Devon left for the bathroom to do his usual change routine; new shirt and pants, spraying water near his armpits and chest on the shirt, and new shoes. When he exited the bathroom Sam still sat at the table, playing with the cap from his empty water bottle.

"Sam…What's up? Do you need a ride home or something?" Sam looked up from the table, still clutching the plastic water bottle cap in his hand. His eyes were tired, his face gaunt and almost lifeless.

"They asked me to go back."

"…Who did?"

"Finn and Rachel. They want me to go back to McKinley, be in the glee club with them."

"Are you…are you thinking about it?"

"What is there to think about, Devon? There's no way in hell my parents would ever be able to afford moving back to Lima. What else am I supposed to do?" Sam was stuck between a rock and a hard place, although the hard place was nothing at all. He knew about his parent's finances; hell, their economic status was the reason he'd taken this job in the first place. He knew that it was impossible, but there was something within him that held a tiny bit of hope. Hope that he'd be able to return to the family of peers he'd become so close to.

(….)

Ally and Layla were tucked in the back corner of the library the next day, Layla on the old, run-down computer and Ally with a notebook and pen in hand, sitting cross-legged on a chair. They were unusually quiet, talking only when Layla had another thing for Ally to look at or write down on her list. The list they were compiling was full of the Glee clubs they had been given as competitors for sectionals and a list of their attributes. Dalton; (Blaine Anderson usual head-soloist) tight harmonies, clean cut dance moves, all boys. New Directions; (Rachel Berry common head-soloist/duet-ist) Spirited, fun performances. Troubletones; (Santana Lopez and Mercedes Jones usual front-liners) Sass, class, all girls. The two were trying to compile lists of things they needed to improve on, things that could get them to or above the bar the other clubs would set during competition. Every so often they'd come across a worrying video; a mashup or a competition set list that seriously made them consider the readiness of their club. But every time, they wrote down everything the other clubs were doing right and moved on, clicking on video after video during their free period.

"Hey, you guys are in the glee club, right?" Another girl had approached them, standing next to them nervously, a book clutched tight to her chest. Her pretty brown hair was in a ponytail that draped over one shoulder, and her black-framed glasses fit her face with perfection. She seemed shy, but not unapproachable. Layla and Ally nodded, trying to figure the familiarity in their new companion's face. "I'm Jenna, the new addition."

"That's why you look familiar." Ally breathed a sigh of relief, her mind able to relax after knowing why Jenna looked so familiar. "I'm Ally, this is Layla."

"We're actually doing unofficial club business right now if you want to help." Layla gestured to an empty seat and Jenna took it gratefully, glad to have some friendly faces around. "Ally, show her the list." She complied, turning over her notebook to reveal an almost covered piece of paper, filled with names and songs and random words. "This," she said with a smile "is the list of things the other clubs do that we think we need to improve on to get up to par with them."

"Dalton….Blaine's not in the club anymore, guys." Jenna was scanning the list and stopped upon the familiar name with a smile.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"He transferred to McKinley to be with his boyfriend. I see his name somewhere on here." Jenna continued to scan the list; teal, bitten nail dancing across the page until she reached yet another familiar name. "Hummel, Kurt Hummel. Voice of an angel, counter-tenor. Pretty good at dancing, too. He picks up on things easily. Another threat, I'd say."

"How do you know all of this?" Ally spoke up, trying to scan her list for the information Jenna was seemingly pulling out of nowhere.

"Blaine's my cousin. Blaine Anderson, Jenna Anderson."

"That's so cool! Are you close?"

"Really close. Blaine's like a brother to me. When his family wasn't…well, accepting when he came out, he came to stay with mine and that's really when we got close. Freshman year, I think that was."

The three turned back to their work, stopping every so often to tell stories they'd heard of the opposing clubs, Layla and Ally often asking Jenna to quell rumors they'd heard about certain people. Since she had an in on both Dalton and McKinley, Jenna turned out to be a larger help than they'd imagined.

"So what else is on your list of things to do?" The bell had rung and the three girls were walking from the library to their next class; glee club, new information stored tight in their heads. Jenna was curious as to what else the other two had planned to improve the club.

"We're thinking about heading over to the other schools to check out their clubs. We know McKinley's having a fund-raiser performance next week, and we're thinking of a way of getting into Dalton. We're girls, it's not like we can just waltz in."

"One of the boys will let you in, it shouldn't be that hard. I think their club's supervisor could care less, so it actually might be easy to get in. They have a council that runs rehearsals and makes decisions, and they might be hard to get past. I could ask Blaine if he could convince them to let us check them out, he's still good friends with them. Would that be good?"

"That's awesome! Problem solved. If Blaine says that we can, then do you think we'd be able to head over some time this week? I'd really like to give Genwich out list by Friday." Ally was bubbling with excitement. She'd always been eager to get involved, and this list was her ticket into _huge _involvement, a constant in with the club.

"I'm pretty sure that'd be good. I'll let you know, ok?"

"Guys, settle down please." Grenwich smiled as the remainder of her students entered the room, Ally, Jenna, and Layla being just some of them. "I can always tell when my students get used to me. It's alright, I like a little fun. Just not too much, we've still got a long way to go before sectionals and one million things to do." The sleek, beautiful woman crossed the front of her classroom, stopping behind the shiny black baby grand in the middle of the room, leaning against it with a hint of authority she had always carried with her.

"Now, for your assignment this week I'd really like you to focus on yourselves." She smiled at all of the confused, anxious faces staring back at her after hearing her words, chuckling. "Not necessarily telling your life story, but letting us know something about yourselves. Sort of another introduction, if you will. This will give me an opportunity to hear you and maybe even get some ideas for our set-list. There isn't much else for now, so I want you to really be thinking about this assignment."

(….)

"Layla, wait up!" A male voice called Layla from behind, and she stopped in her tracks, waving off Ally and Jenna who looked back with curious eyes, giggling in wonderment when they saw the figure chasing after their friend. Layla recognized him immediately; it was the same person who'd defended her a week before, Oliver. He'd caught sight of her from the opposite end of the hallway, walking slow out of the choir room with a group of people he'd only seen a few times before. He knew the group to be tight-knit, but he hadn't known that their group was where she'd ended up. When he finally caught up Layla was smiling and gave him a little wave.

"Haven't seen you around in a while." He smiled in spite of himself, dimples playfully showing themselves at the corners of his cheeks.

"Neither have I. I've been looking, wanted to make sure you've adjusted alright. It looks like you are, though."

"Yeah, I love it here. I never intended to get involved with the glee club-or anything, really-but I guess being thrust into these things was good for me. Makes adjusting a lot easier when you have people helping you."

"I guess so." It was awkward for a while, the two walking next to each other in silence, each not knowing what to say to the other next. The span of time that set this meeting apart from their first seemed too lengthy, and while neither wanted to say goodbye they were also having trouble getting conversation going. "Hey, do you like coffee?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you think you'd want to maybe get coffee with me some time then? There's a place I go down the street from here that has really good stuff." His shyness was endearing, the way he had stopped in his tracks and was rocking back and forth on his heels nervously. He hadn't planned on asking Layla out that day, it had just sort of happened.

"Sure, that'd be great." She smiled and wrote her number down on a piece of paper, handing it to him before moving to see if she could catch up to Ally and Jenna. Needless to say they were around the corner, smiling wide having seen her whole encounter take place. For once, Layla was glad for nosy friends.

(….)

The halls of Dalton were filled with boys that afternoon, getting out of their last class and scrambling to get where they needed to be. Some were rushing, they guessed, to get to their cars or buses. Others meandered through the halls, stopping to talk to each other, their heads turning upon catching sight of the three girls amongst their usually masculine crowd. They traipsed along in their matching blazers, making Jenna, Ally, and Layla feel even more out of place amongst them.

Their school was a lot nicer than Franklin although it was older in age. Their floors were mock marble tile, and the hallway they were currently walking down was home to an ornate black chandelier, one that would seem more than out of place in the run-down halls of Franklin high. Jenna waved to a few people in her passing, most recognizing her as the cousin of a great who had left them.

The hallways were beginning to clear and Layla and Ally had begun to worry, looking over at each other with anxious eyes. Jenna, coolly pretending not to notice their lack of confidence, merely continued walking in the path that had become so familiar to her. She could recall the countless times she'd been through the halls of Dalton to support her cousin; choir concerts, impromptu Warbler performances, and just hanging out with him and his friends in their café. She knew the route like it was her second home, and seeing the girls doubt her only made her smile more.

"Jenna, do you know where we're going? We've been walking a while now." Layla was the first of the two to speak her worries, pausing a moment to stretch her calf in mock-pain.

"Shh," Jenna held her finger to her lips and the girls went silent. In the distance they could hear a familiar tune with a strange sort of spin, only human voices taking on its challenges. "If you wait a while, all you really have to do is follow the music. I used to have to do this all the time, before I visited Blaine more often and the school was more like the back of my own hand."

In the eyes of her friends, Jenna had just won brownie points. The girls smiled and made their was quietly toward the noise, which turned out to be only one short hallway away. Jenna opened the large oak doors with a bit more of her strength than she thought they would need, and the girls slipped onto an empty sofa quietly, trying not to detract their attention away from the boys rehearsal.

They were in straight lines, one whistling while the others side-stepped back and forth, their voices mimicking a guitar. Two or three took on the back-beat of the song, and they gave their own moves to the choreographed stepping, snapping and looking at each other happily as they provided the group with rhythm. The soloist began softer, standing in the front of their group as the others continued their robotic yet fluid movements behind him. He seemed like an older member of their group, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and an endearingly imperfect blazer. To the girls, he seemed like the goofy one.

"You say I'm a kid; my ego is big. I don't give a shh-" He pressed his finger to his lips and smiled coyly, blocking out the swear word with a wink. As he progressed to the chorus the others began to jump around him and then spread out into a circle, their two best dancers in its center. As the soloist sang they went back and forth in a sort of mini-battle amongst themselves, sometimes generating cheers from the members of their group.

"I don't need to try to control you. Look into my eyes and I'll own you with them move like Jagger, I've got them moves like Jagger. I've got them moves like Jagger."

Needless to say the Warblers were an easily distracted group, and as they danced back into their straight lines, they noticed the three females sitting on their couch.

"Spies! We have spies!" One of the boys, a shorter, skinny one with wild black hair called out, pointing to the girls with a cunning grin. The rest of the boys around him, younger like himself, had begun to call out too, their eyes frantically scanning their mass to find their fearless leaders; the council. A gavel sounded on a hard oak desk set on a raised platform on the other side of the room. Around thirty heads whipped toward the noise, immediately silencing their panicked voices.

"Relax, relax. We have some visitors today. This is Jenna Anderson, cousin of our greatly missed common lead soloist Blaine Anderson. With her is Ally Wesley and Layla Tam, two of Franklin High's top new talents. They asked if they could see how we work and I agreed, so _please _try to make them feel at home here." The boy with the gavel pointed to Jenna with a smile and she walked to him, letting him bring her into a tight embrace.

"Jenna, it's so good to see you around here. Things aren't the same without you and Blaine constantly trying to get us to harmonize to classic Disney."

"She does that to us over at Franklin now."

"All the time." Ally and Layla laughed and Jenna stuck her tongue out at them in mock hurt.

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude. I'm David." The boy stuck his hand out to her friends and they shook it in turn, saying their names as they went. "I'm a senior, and head of Warbler council here."

"That means that he and two others basically run the club; hold auditions, meetings…" Jenna interrupted David upon seeing the semi-confused faces of her friends.

"Yup, that's me."

"Who else is on the council now that Wes has graduated?"

"There's still Thad, and the new guy is Nick. Well, not necessarily new, but new to council."

"And any new Blaine's coming up?"

"Well, there's one guy we've already given a few solos." David paused to scan the room, stopping at an average-sized male with auburn hair. He was talking to some of the younger Warblers, who were wound around him in a tight-knit circle. "Sebastian Smythe; I'll be the first to talk about his arrogance but hey, the kid can sing. Only a sophomore, too." Sebastian seemed to notice that he had four pairs of eyes on him because he turned around and gave them a wave, sending them a smug smile that could only mean he knew their topic of conversation too.

"Nothing like Blaine and a bit of a player, but he's the closest we've come to having a constant lead like your cousin. But enough about him, what about you, Jenna? We haven't talked in a long time."

"I don't want to hear anything until you tell me how Katherine is, David." The two moved to the council table and sat, letting the rest of the Warblers know that it was their time to take a break. Layla moved over to talk to one of the freshman boys, leaving Ally alone to stare at their herd of boys in wonderment. From what she'd heard walking in, she knew they'd be a real challenge come sectionals.

"Hey, I noticed you from across the room and thought I'd come say hello." Ally turned to face the same boy they had been talking about earlier, the one with the auburn hair and pompous demeanor. "Sebastian Smythe. And you are?"

"Allyson Wesley." She stuck out her hand and so did he, but to her surprise he did not shake it, but brought it up to his lips and kissed it instead.

"Well, _Ally, _it's a pleasure meeting someone as beautiful as you."

"…thank you?"

"So, not to be straightforward or anything, do you have a boyfriend?" Ally was shocked and rather put off at his blunt question. Not knowing what to say she took a while to respond, leaving Sebastian waiting impatiently for her answer.

"No." Ally couldn't lie, no matter how much she'd wanted to. Her conscience was just too much to handle sometimes.

"Oh, well then that makes it easier for me, doesn't it?"

"You're being incredibly rude, you know that, right?"

"Why, can't I hit on a pretty girl?"

"Because….you just are. I like to get to know a person before starting any of that. I've known you for all of five minutes and you're all but inviting me into your pants."

"I'm shocked," Sebastian replied coolly, sinking back in the cushions of the couch with ease. "I wasn't going to go there yet but if you're open for it…"

"You're disgusting." Ally moved to leave but he caught her arm, almost having to force her to stay sitting with him. She huffed and folded her arms across her chest, crossing one leg over the other and keeping her body facing away from him.

"I'm sorry." He put his arm on her hand and she froze; his touch made her uncomfortable. Although she had once been a touchy person that trait had died out, too many things causing it to jump away from her in a flash. She was too polite to ask Sebastian to remove his arm from hers. Instead her eyes glanced down at her arm warily and back up to his face. "I'd really like to try again, I think something good could come out of this."

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Please, just give me a chance. We can be…friends." Ally breathed out a sigh, uncrossing her arms and moving to get up from the couch. This time, Sebastian didn't stop her. Before walking away, though, she turned to face him.

"Fine." She began. His face calmed, and she noticed it droop in a sort of relaxed state. A smug smile grew on his face, and she felt her insides churn uneasily. "But the minute you try to pull any of your little….stunts, I'm done."

"Friends?"

"_Just _friends."

(….)

"I just wanted to remind you that this week is _your _week. Meaning that I want you to do a song that inspires you, a song that maybe fits into your week or how you're feeling. I want to see the inspiration when you perform, this will help me better pick leads for later songs and competitions." After her little speech, Grenwich left sheet music on the front table of the choir room, returning to her desk to answer emails and give her students a chance to talk their pieces out with each other. As if that's what they were doing…

"Are you coming to McKinley's invitational today?" Ally sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Devon, Jenna, and Layla, directing her question toward the last to be mentioned. She smiled and shook her head, taking a sip out of her water bottle before putting it back in her lap, playing with the cap nervously.

"I have a date, actually."

"A _date? _With who?"

"His name is Oliver, he's the one I told you about. The one who defended me when I ran into Asher in the hallway the other week?"

"Oh, him? The cute one with the blondish hair who stopped you in the hallway yesterday?" Layla nodded, her bright eyes glowing and her smile becoming wider. She had been looking forward to seeing him that afternoon from the day he had asked her out.

"You're lucky, I wish someone had the nerve to ask me out." Ally hugged her legs to her chest and sighed, resting her chin on her knees. Devon's eyebrows rose at her sudden exclamation, but he chose not to say anything. He didn't want to mess anything up.

"What about that guy from yesterday? The Warbler?" Unable to help his reaction, Devon looked right at Ally when this was said, unsure of what to do but give her one of his infamous confused looks.

"Him? He was creepy as hell. I would never."

"Who was it?" Jenna spoke up, trying to remember the events of the previous day. Much of what she remembered, though, had to do with her visits to old friends and not staying with her new ones.

"That Sebastian Smythe kid. The one with the huge ego and baby meerkat face." The group laughed at Layla's witty remark, Deon glad to see that Ally didn't seem to have interest in him.

"He all but wanted to get in my pants within five minutes of talking, and when I told him he offered."

"Whoa whoa whoa, he offered to…"

"Yeah. Classy, right?"

"The kid's a Warbler? At Dalton Academy?" Devon couldn't stand the thought of someone making such forward advances on her, especially since he still saw her as the fragile four year old he helped bandage after her fall from the swings. "Want me to beat him up for you?"

"Does everything you do have to resort to violence, Devon?" There was no joking tone in her voice now, and Devon saw her invisible wall raise itself. The other girls moved their seats, leaving just Devon and Ally to solve their dispute.

"Al, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just don't want to see you get hurt when it could be prevented." He sat on the floor next to her, within arms length though he didn't try to reach out. Somehow, he figured that trying to comfort her with his touch would make things worse.

"Not everything can be prevented, Devon."

"What do you mean?" He paused, trying to get her to look at him. She refused, staring straight ahead at the red chair he had been sitting in with a glazed over look. "Ally, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Just…." She paused, giving him what he wanted by looking at him with large, bloodshot brown eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "Can you leave me alone for a while? I just need to think."

"Whatever you need, Al." He got up from his place on the floor, stopping only to look back at her disheveled form. "Whenever you need me, I'm just a house away, ok?" She nodded, her head dropping back into her knees. Passing Jenna and Layla as he moved to find a new seat, he stopped.

"She needs to be alone for a while. But if she talks to you, can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Just," He paused, choking on his words. Seeing Ally choked up killed him inside, and knowing that he couldn't help made it worse. "Make sure she's alright. I'm starting to get worried about her, but she won't tell me anything. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember, and seeing her like this…It kills me."

"…Ally?" She looked up at the feminine voice. It belonged to Jenna, and Layla stood next to her. Upon seeing them, she just began to cry harder and not knowing what else to do, the girls each took a side, sitting next to Ally and wrapping their arms around her. They waited for her to speak first-if she was even going to speak-not wanting to make her feel forced or intimidated.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't, it's just too much right now."

"Can't do what?"

"Anything. I can't live in a world where I'm constantly afraid. I can't open up anymore, I can't even pretend that I don't care when people get too close to me. I'm just screwing everything up now, it's….it's time for me to go."

"Go where…..?" Jenna paused, and as she paused, she and Layla began to think, re-evaluating the broken words Ally had just spoken. "Ally, no. Oh god no, you can't do that to yourself, to your friends and family. Do you know how broken up we'd be? How many people would miss you?"

"Why should I bother if everyone's going to find someone to fill their voids anyway? Why should I have to suffer any more of what I am already?"

"Because there are people in this world who would literally die without you in their lives, and because you have so much to look forward to." Jenna stopped, not sure of what else to say. She looked over at Layla, brown eyes desperately calling for more words of wisdom.

"Listen, I don't know what you're going through-I don't think anybody does-but Jenna's right. There's so many things holding you here; there has to be. Think about all of the things you have in your life that you're grateful for."

"Devon would die, Ally. He would literally die. I can already tell and I've only known you a short time. He's your best friend, he knows you better than anybody else in this stupid world. What would he do without you? What would _you _do without _him?_ Think about sectionals; you're lead soloist and you're only just beginning your journey in this club. We _need _you, Ally. We need you more than anybody could ever imagine." The fragile, pale girl in the middle of their hug blinked away her last tear; she had cried too much for anything to be left. Taking a deep breath, she finally returned their embrace, leaning into them gratefully.

"Thank you."

(….)

"This week's assignment was all about you. Inspiration, moments, thoughts… I hope you all really gave it some thought, because I know I did. Is there anyone that'd like to start us off?" There was a bit of a silence, each student less than eager and a bit nervous to be the first to show off their first official assignment.

"I would." It was Ally, her voice quieter than normal. Grenwich nodded and she made her way to the front of the class. "This song was very important to me this week. And I realized that it's similar to my audition song in the way that I've taken out the rapping and added my own verses, but it was too important to me not to sing it." She noticed Vera roll her eyes but continued, putting the hate she felt coming toward her to the back of her mind.

"I spent a lot of time thinking about life, and who I am. I spent a lot of time thinking about death. I'm glad I did, because this song, that was once incredibly relevant to my life, is no longer relevant thanks to the friends I've made in this club. I still wanted to perform it, though, because this was a moment I know I'll never forget." She moved to the piano, sitting and taking in a shaky breath before beginning.

"I'm coming home, I'm coming home. Tell the world I'm coming home."

_Devon watched from his window anxiously that night; the familiar light had been shining in her window for a while, but he had yet to see her thin silhouette make its way past the window. The moon hung unusually low in the sky, casting a brilliant light onto the leaf-covered lawn between their houses. His gaze wandered across the lawn distractedly, almost missing the small figure laying in the midst of a leaf pile. His heart relaxed in his chest; she was alright. _

_He pulled on his jacket and an old pair of sandals, crossing his half of the lawn to meet her in the middle. Gently, he laid down next to her, careful not to disturb her. He put his hands behind his head and rested them there, his gaze moving to where hers was fixated; the stars. They stayed like that for a while, neither making a move to break the silence until Ally couldn't take it anymore._

"_Hey." Devon was relieved to hear her voice, although it seemed different, more muted than usual._

"_Hi."_

"Let the rain wash away all the pains of yesterday.

I know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes.

I'm coming home, I'm coming home. Tell the world I'm coming….home."

"_I'm sorry about today, I'm sure Jenna and Layla told you everything."_

"_You don't have to apologize, Ally. You shouldn't have to apologize for something like that."_

"_I should if I'm pushing my best friend away."_

"_You could never push me away, Ally. Even if a day comes when you want nothing to do with me, I'll still care about you."_

"And my, my hands. They wanna learn to fly.

And if you could would you, breathe and help me try.

I've severed all these ties,

I'm bound to sail alone.

Oh I know it's not wise, but I'm ready to go home."

"_I just….everything's getting so hard to deal with. I feel like there's no where left for me to go where I can feel safe."_

"_I'm not going to pretend that I understand what you're going through, and I'm not going to make you tell me if it makes you uncomfortable or it's something you want to keep to yourself. I can't expect that of you-nobody can. I just want you to know that you can always feel safe around me. I'll never hurt you."_

"_Promise?" She turned her head to face him, having to tilt her neck up a bit because of her short stature. Her eyes were full of hope and sorrow, of pains he knew she would keep hidden from him. But somehow, her secrets were alright with him. As long as she was safe, he was ok._

"_Pinky promise." He stuck out his pinky and she took it, interlocking it with her smaller one. She smiled, not saying another word but letting her head rest itself on his chest, continuing to look at the stars. That night, she came to the conclusion that Devon was right; she did feel safe with him. Somewhere, she knew she always would be._

"I'm coming home, I'm coming home. Tell the world I'm coming home.

Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday.

I know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes.

I'm coming home, I'm coming home. Tell the world I'm coming….home."

* * *

><p>Song Credit: Moves Like Jagger - Maroon 5<p>

I'm Coming Home - Original by , Revised Cover (the one I used) by JennaAnne on Youtube. I suggest listening to it while reading the last part of this episode, or just listening to it period.


	3. Episode 3: Secrets

Asher dropped his keys on the kitchen counter when he entered the house, flipping the nearest light switch. The light above him flickered feebly and then died out with a small puff. Asher groaned and moved for a step stool, clearing empty bottles of alcohol and a layer of dust away from it before setting it down, unscrewing the light bulb and replacing it with a new one. The light shined on an average-looking kitchen covered with an unwavering mess. A pile of dishes was in the sink, leftover food lain out on the counters. Upon seeing the mess, Asher wished he hadn't turned the light on at all. Seeing the mess reminded himself of his situation, of what he had been left with. He grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard and glanced warily at the clock. It would be another hour until his brother got out of school, so he had to wait, had to stay out of trouble until then. He forced himself to pull his school books from his bag, clearing a space on the kitchen table to begin his work. As he tried to read, though, the letters seemed to dance on the page, flipping backwards and upside down until he could not decipher one from another. He groaned in frustration, closing the book with a thud. He would just have to deal with another bad grade, it wasn't as if he weren't used to it by now.

He journeyed upstairs to his bedroom where he pulled a comb from his bedside drawer, running it through his lengthier hair in attempts to make himself seem more presentable. Eyeing himself in the mirror he sighed, his glance stopping at the baggy pants that covered his legs. Moving to his closet he reached toward its very end, stopping when he found an acceptable pair of khakis. He changed from an equally baggy hoodie to a polo shirt, and threw a nicer jacket over that. Once again he went over to the mirror, much more pleased with his appearance. He looked more like a role model brother, even if it was just a façade.

His brother was happy to see him, running to the car and tackling him in a hug. He was six years younger than Asher, his hair shorter and spiked into a faux-hawk. He was dressed the same way Asher was, in a preppy, mildly sporty outfit. He carried a soccer ball under his arm and a picture in his hand, and when Asher let him into the car it was the first thing he put into his hand. Asher smiled, looking down at the picture.

"I drew it for you, Asher." In it were two boys, one noticeably taller than the other. The taller one had longer hair and a little triangle goatee on his chin, just like Asher. The second had a soccer ball next to his arm and was grinning, the other hand holding Asher's. That one was his brother, he guessed.

"That's great, Zane. I love it. You're getting better at this, you need to stop before you're better than me at everything." Zane laughed as Asher reached over to give him a noogie, shouting in protest.

"I could never be as good as you at things, Asher. You're good at everything."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Cooking and skating and taking care of me. Especially taking care of me. That's why mom and dad left you to take care of me when they went on vacation, right?" Asher swallowed a lump in his throat but did not change his facial expression, keeping his eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel. He choked out a response through a shaky, nervous breath.

"Yeah, that's why." He had never told such a large lie to his brother, but he couldn't have him face the truth.

(….)

Layla smiled as she walked down the hallway with Oliver. He was carrying her books like a true gentleman, as he had been for the past few days. She liked Oliver, the way he always seemed to be so attentive. Especially the way he never seemed to care that she was a year younger than him. They liked to talk to each other, tell each other stories about their lives past and present. He was always an interesting person to have a conversation with, Oliver. It seemed as though he always had some big plan, something new he desperately wanted to try. Unlike Layla, who was stuck in who she currently was and enjoying her high school career, he was all about the future. And sometimes, it scared her, the way he would open up to her about everything. She had only known him for around a month at this point, and yet she felt like she knew everything about him. This, of course, was untrue. Everyone had the one thing they didn't like to share, and neither of the pair had opened that part of themselves up to each other yet.

They were talking about an assignment she had gotten in English when she felt someone grip her arm from the other side rather tight. She turned to the new companion and rolled her eyes, moving her hand toward his face in attempts to push him away. The male scoffed and gave her a matching eye roll, smacking her playfully on the arm. He was clearly irritated, though, and Layla could tell. She said her goodbyes to Oliver reluctantly and began to walk with the other male, who gave her an angered cold-shoulder that made her insides boil.

"Come on, Lennon. What's your deal?" The aforementioned male crossed his lanky arms over his chest and shook his head, keeping up the annoyance that had set into Layla. Lennon was her brother, her twin by nothing more than genetics. She jokingly called him her worse half, although she would never say it to his face. She and Lennon had a great relationship as twins, and although Lennon was one of the largest stresses of her life, she wouldn't change his presence for anything else.

They did have their differences growing up, though, and that's really what caused them to get into their petty little rows. Lennon was a science man, a math and computers and video games sort of guy. He never seemed to understand Layla's passion for music or her ability to pick up an instrument and just _learn _it as easily as she did. Many of their childhood days were actually spent apart, the two unable to agree on anything whatsoever. Layla would get mad when Lennon took the TV, and Lennon would yell at her when she practiced her music too loud. With them, neither could win, and neither could have a childhood day without fighting amongst themselves. That's why Layla had begun to cling so close to their younger sister Julie, only around eighteen moths younger than her. Lennon, however, had nobody. A boy in the midst of four girls, his only escape was his computers.

Their relationship did not remain so rocky, though. Somewhere along the lines of arts versus science fights, of days of not talking to each other for no reason, they had become friends. They had put their differences aside and bonded with each other, the singular reason something they never liked to advertise. The reason of their new friendship, strangely, was the skeleton in their family closet.

"I don't like him."

"Who, Oliver?" Her brother nodded and she groaned, stopping mid-step and pulling him to the side of the hallway with haste. "Are you _serious _right now, Lennon?"

"I just don't think he's your type."

"Artsy, chivalrous, cute…oh yeah, he's definitely not my type." She scoffed and he ignored her, turning his head the other way and pretending not to hear her,

"What _is _my type, then?"

"Not him. I just…I don't know, sis. I don't think bringing a guy home is a good idea right now."

"Why not?"

"Did you check the day on the calendar today?" Layla looked back at Lennon, her brown eyes squinting a bit while her nose wrinkled. Then, she knew. She knew why her brother was having such a hard time, why he was being so protective of her all of a sudden.

"I didn't check the date."

"I know you didn't. You of all people. You know what, Layla? I don't understand you anymore. She was your _best friend. _And all of a sudden it's forgotten? You're just going to ignore the fact that-"

"Don't you _dare _put any of this on me! You don't understand what I'm going through, how dare you make assumptions about me that aren't even remotely true." She was shouting at him now, and several heads had turned to glance at them in curiosity. Upon noticing this Layla pulled Lennon into an empty classroom, pushing him into an empty chair and standing in front of him. Her eyes were lit like the largest of summer bonfires, and it scared him a bit as she pointed a shaking finger at his chest. "You don't know what I'm going through. You don't know what it's like. Don't pretend that you do because you hardly ever even talked to Julie and I before the incident." Her voice was becoming softer with each sentence, breaking with each word until she was fighting to speak through a squeaking, barely there voice. "_How could I forget? I'll never forget."_

"I know, I know." He tried to move toward her but she protested, crossing the room and standing next to the door, feebly wiping her tears from her face.

"I never forgot, Lennon. Not one second." The hallways were still abuzz with student activity when Layla finally emerged from the classroom, leaving Lennon behind. It was the end of the day, and many of the students of Franklin were hanging around, leaning on lockers and chatting while they waited to go home or for their activities to start. Among noticing the slowly shrinking crowd of students, Layla noticed that she was not quite along. A taller figure was walking by the door of the classroom at rapid speed, and the two almost collided instantly. The other person stopped to apologize, but Layla backed away. The person she had almost bumped into was Asher, and he attempted to put his arm on her shoulder as he apologized.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" He chuckled but she could not seem to see the humor in his voice as nothing but bitter, nothing but the way he had been to her the first time they met.

"Get away from me, Asher." She pulled away from his touch and his face fell, but before she could get too far away he had caught up and began to walk with her.

"Listen, I'm sorry about last time." She rolled her eyes but he would not give up, would not let her get away without getting his point across. "Just hear me out, please." In her head, Layla had already come up with several quips in response to Asher's pleadings.

"_I barely even know you, why should I bother listening to you?" _Her mind was racing as she looked over at him, brown eyes alight with the beginnings of a fire. Their first encounter ran through her head, the way he had whispered in her ear so threateningly, the shiver of discomfort that traveled in rigid motions down her spine.

"Fine." She was too nice. She'd always been too nice, too forgiving. Something about him drew her in, though; made it impossible for her to say no to him. "What's your excuse?"

"I would give you my excuse but you'd never believe it. Besides, it's not something I like to advertise." He moved to cross one leg over the other and Layla cast her glance down at his pants. They weren't bunched, they weren't baggy. He was wearing a belt, and she was taken aback to find a pair of khakis on his legs. He seemed to notice her surprise because he chuckled again, gesturing to his pants. "I'm going for a new look, a change. Do they make me look too much like a golf player?" Layla giggled in spite of herself and shook her head. He smiled and gave his pants another look, putting one foot in front of the other and posing for Layla. "Really? Because I was going for more of a modern day casual business man sort of look."

"Oh then I definitely see it."

"Really?"

"No. You're definitely a golf player in those pants, sorry." They kept up their banter until they were outside of the glee classroom, and Layla nodded her head toward the door. "Well, this is my stop." Before she could enter the classroom, though, he called her name to stop her.

"Thanks for giving me a second chance. If that's what you were doing, I mean." She didn't answer him at first, searching his features for that same sign of malignity she had seen during their first encounter. Not a trace could be found. She let a small smile play on the corners of her lips and slowly progressed through the door of the classroom.

"We'll see." She said, and waved goodbye to him. He grinned and walked the opposite way down the hallway, finally preparing to re-define himself. If not for his own sake, but for the sake of the brother that looked upon him so highly. This would be for him.

(…..)

Grenwich crossed the room, standing as per routine next to the glossy baby grand piano at the front of the choir room. After scanning her group of students and taking a mental attendance, she cleared her throat.

"This week's theme is secrets." Her Broadway-worthy voice could often be heard from the hallways, but this day was an exception. She moved to sit on an empty stool, crossing one leg over the other while making sure that her straight-lined skirt did not hike up. Grenwich leaned in and rested her head on her elbow, lowering the tone of her voice to one that none of the students-not even the well-trained veterans-had heard from her before. "Anything you feel, anything you've been keeping to yourself. The song itself doesn't necessarily have to tell all-that'll be up to you-but I want to feel your experience, I want to find out more about you. I want to know why your secret's still a secret at all." She paused as a room full of anxious students looked between each other in a mixture of both nervousness and a hidden atmosphere of pain, of suffering. "I know this assignment can be hard, and you know I never force you to sing alone. If you're not comfortable with this, then you can sing backup for somebody else. I urge you to give it a try, though. You never know what you'll find by letting yourself be, by expressing the things you've been hiding. Who knows, maybe this will make some of you feel better about the skeletons you've been hiding in your closets."

(…)

"So what are you doing for this week's assignment?" Devon was driving Ally home after a long rehearsal that night, one hand on the wheel as he tried desperatey to make casual conversation. She shrugged and leaned her head on the cool glass of the window, listening to the newly pouring rain as her eyes wearily scanned their surroundings. The closer they got to their neighborhood, the more withdrawn she became. "You don't have any ideas?"

"I think I'm just going to sing with Layla on this one, back her up. I don't really think this assignment is for me."

"Why not? No skeletons in that walk in closet of yours?" He chuckled and she cracked a smile, one that only pulled minutely at the corners of her mouth. One that seemed insincere to the smiles she usually wore around him. "Al, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't want to do the assignment, that's all." He had pulled up to her driveway then and she still sat in the car, hand tentatively hovering over her seatbelt. Looking out across the now rain-soaked lawn before her house, she noticed a black car had been parked in her driveway. She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest and her breath hitching in her throat. Ally looked back at Devon as if to say something, but the words were caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him everything; the meaning of her reaction to the car, the reason she wouldn't do a solo for the assignment this week. Instead, she reached over the middle console and engulfed him in a hug, resting her head on his shoulder and taking in the light scent of his cologne. Before he could ask what the long embrace was for, she had given him one last faltering look and walked slowly across the lawn, not caring that the rain was now pouring in buckets on their small town.

He didn't see Ally at all the next day. When he had finished getting ready for the day, she wasn't hanging around in his bedroom. She wasn't playing with his little sister or his dog Jackson. She wasn't making small talk with his mother or eating their food like she usually was. He gave his mother a quizzical look and she shrugged, seeming just as confused as his mom and step-dad were. It was unusual for there to be a morning without Ally in the Rogers house. He pulled out his phone and fired her a quick text, wondering why she hadn't come over like she usually did. Although her sleeping in was always a possibility; If there was one thing Ally loved more than performing, it would be sleeping, right next to eating.

"Not coming to school today. Came down with a really bad cold. Need to stay in and rest. Don't bother bringing work for me. I'll get it when I come back." He read her reply with an even more confused mind, handing his phone over to his mother in question. Once again she shrugged, playing it off.

"I hope she gets better soon, that's too bad."

"You don't think it's weird, the text?" He was tossing his phone between his hands, moving toward a window toward the back of their house to glance over at hers. His mother made a disapproving tsk sound and moved toward her son, escorting him away from the window and shoving a pancake into his unwilling hand.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Devon. I'm sure she's fine." When she looked up, though, his mother saw the apprehension written all over her son's face, and her own softened a bit, touched by the way her son cared for this girl.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll go and bring her over some pancakes before I leave to drop your sister off for daycare and go to work, alright?" He nodded reluctantly, his mother practically shoving him out the door. Something didn't feel right to him, and he couldn't help but stare at the black car in Ally's driveway while backing out of his own, a strange feeling forming in his gut. Something wasn't right.

When Ally came back to school, Devon had the same feeling that he had had when she was absent. She seemed distant, different almost. She spent most of the day avoiding him, turning her head or pretending she didn't hear him when he began to talk to her. He wanted to persist, to get her to answer his prompts or make the same bitterly sarcastic comments she was so keen on making. He wanted to hear her laugh, to see her toss her head back the way she did when she was laughing at something she found especially funny. She didn't do any of that that day, and it moved him. Something about the way Ally was acting was a shell, a skeleton of the person she had been before she had taken the day off from school the day before.

When he entered the choir room she was already on one of three stools set toward the front of the room next to the grand piano. Layla was in the middle, Jenna on her other side.

"I've been having a really rough time this week because of the skeleton in my closet. Not that I didn't know what it was, that the theme was so relevant to what's been going on in my life lately. I know I'll never be rid of the things I feel because of it, but it's because of all you guys-especially Jenna and Ally- that I'm slowly starting to recover. So _this _is my skeleton in the closet."

She sang before playing the guitar, a simple, soft melody. The club hadn't heard her sing outside of her audition, so they seemed shocked upon hearing the smooth voice that came out of her mildly shy body. As a person who seemed to hide herself in her instruments, Layla had chosen a song she felt was directed more by the voice, by the emotion the singer let show while singing it.

" _If I die young, bury me in satin._

_Lay me down on a bed of roses,_

_Sink me in the river at dawn,_

_Send me away with the words of a love song." _

As with the performances that had already happened that week, Layla's voice had become shaky after only a few lines of the song. She shook away her tears and continued to play the guitar, Ally and Jenna coming in for the harmonies in the chorus of the song. They hung back, letting Layla have her moment in the spotlight, letting her use her song as a tribute. Although they did not know what she was singing about, the rest of the club were touched by her words, the way she sang them so softly and yet with so much passion. Her facial expression switched from nervous quickly, turning into one of finally surfacing sorrow, the same emotions she had been trying to hide from everybody, even Lennon. Emotions she didn't like to let show. In front of this club, though, it seemed easy. It seemed as though maybe she'd be able to heal.

(…..)

"Hey, I heard you singing when I walked by the choir room today, you were great." Asher had managed to find Layla yet again and she tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and smiled in shy response to his compliment.

"Thank you, that means a lot."

"I mean it, you were awesome. And the song too, surprisingly. I don't normally like music like that but there was something about it. What were you singing about?" To this question Layla turned her head and began to look at her feet while she walked. Sure, she had begun to trust Asher more. Some could even say that they were sort of becoming friends. But she hadn't told anyone, and she wasn't sure Asher was the best place to start. "Sorry, sensitive subject?"

"A little. And a long story too, I guess."

"Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'll be here." She was taken aback by Asher's open invitation, and before leaving him to walk to his car, she gave him an incredulous look, half teasing half serious.

"When did you decide to become this nice guy who…_cares _about people?"

"That's _my _little secret. Maybe some day I'll tell you, but for right now, that stays with me."

(…..)

"I need another story, something to get off my chest.

My life gets kind of boring, need something that I can confess.

'Till all my sleeves are stained red from all the truth that I said

I come by it honestly I swear,

Thought you saw me blink, no

I've been on the brink so…"

Ally stood in the center of the stage, a spotlight on her as she sang the opening line to their first group number. Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, a sort of echo ringing through the near-silent theater as she sang to an empty audience. As the cello began to play she stepped back, letting the next soloist take the lead as she and the others sang back up.

"_I love you, Ally. Your dad will be home from work tomorrow so you'll only be alone for a little bit. Don't worry, it'll be fine. My meeting's only for two weeks and then I _promise_ we can do some girl things when I get back. Ok?" She didn't want to let her mother go, but her plane was boarding. She was running out of time, running out of moments to tell her mother why she didn't want her to go. She was slowly but surely running out of courage, so she hugged her mother, telling her to have a safe flight before getting back in the car and driving home. She threw her keys on the counter before moving up to her bedroom and sitting on her floor, putting her head in her hands. She had one night before her father came home, one night before she knew everything would fall to shit again._

"My God, amazing how we got this far

It seems we're chasing all those stars

Who's driving fancy big black cars.

"And every day I see the news

All the problems that we could solve

And when a situation rises just write it into an album

Singing straight to cold,

I don't really like my flow, no.""

_Oliver returned home from school that day to the sound of shouting coming from the walls of his house. He could hear them coming up the driveway, and he cautiously opened the front door just in time to watch his sister fly up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door while her parents merely stared at each other, hatred and anxiety crossing their older features. Oliver gave them a quizzical look before moving to console his sister, whom he could hear crying from where he was standing._

"_Bridgette?" He opened the door to find her sitting against the door of her closet, knees tucked up to her stomach and head rested wearily on top of them. Her pretty blonde hair was done in soft, delicate curls that hung across her face in disarray now, and she looked up at her older brother with watering green eyes, tears falling across her freckle-dusted cheeks. "What's wrong?" She patted the area next to him and he sat cross-legged, putting his arm around her and hugging her to him in attempts to calm her._

"_Kyle got me pregnant. He got me pregnant and now he won't talk to me. Mom and dad found out, they say I can't keep it. They said I have to give it up or…" She fell silent for a moment, draping her hand carefully along her barely developed stomach. "People are going to find out soon, they're going to wonder. But I don't want to get rid of it, I want to keep it. I want to show mom and dad that I can do this." In that moment, he no longer saw Bridgette as his little sister, as the five year old he'd saved from a group of bullies on the playground. He saw her as her sixteen year old self, as someone who had made a stupid mistake and had to face the consequences. He saw her as someone he had to help._

"_I can help you, Bridgette. Just because Kyle is an asshole doesn't mean you or this baby should have to suffer. We'll show mom and dad that we can take care of it together, ok? We can do this." The little blonde crashed into his arms and he held her tight, a lump forming in his throat and an anxiety about his promised responsibilities becoming all too real._

"So tell me what you want to hear,

Something that'll light those ears

I'm sick of all the insincere

I'm gunna give all my secrets away."

"_Allyson! I'm back from running errands!" She heard his slightly slurred voice boom from the kitchen downstairs and took a deep breath, hesitating by her window before moving to see her father. He looked the same as he always had, save the new car it seemed he had bought before he had come back from his meeting. His arms were spread as if to welcome her to a hug but she stayed where she was, holding on to the banister of the stairs and staring back at her father. The fake smile on his face fell and his eyes ignited. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked at her with disapproving scorn. "You're going to play this game with me?" She didn't answer her father, merely avoided his gaze, continuing to take shaky breaths. She remembered the days events, sitting in the car with Devon before going into her house. She had been so close to escaping then, so close to getting away from her father. But he had been watching out the window, she noticed, and she had been forced to go in. She couldn't put Devon in the sort of danger she was in in this moment. _

"_Don't make this any harder on yourself than it has to be, Allyson. You know what I want." He crossed the kitchen to her then, closing the distance between them as she felt her heartbeat quicken, her body freezing in place._

"This time, don't need another perfect life

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

I'm gonna give all my secrets away."

"_Well then I hate you too!" Layla stood in front of her younger sister by eighteen months, her hands placed defiantly on her chest. She was truly acting as the older sister, trying desperately to reign in Julie before she had had enough. Now, Layla and Julie were in the middle of a heated argument, the first in their fourteen years of sisterhood as well as friendship. They were lucky the only other person home was their bother Lennon, because the volume of their argument had raised to levels neither of them had ever heard before._

"_If you hate me so much then maybe I should just leave." Julie turned her back toward Layla and moved toward their front door, slamming it on her way out._

"_Fine! See if I care!" Layla watched her sister leave, watched her walk out of the door feeling nothing but anger boiling inside of her. Her sister had never been so cross toward her before. There was a moment of eerie silence, the noise of their argument having been the only one floating around the whole house, enveloping it in the hate they had felt for each other. Then there was a crash, a violent, awful noise of metal against something they couldn't define. Layla was the first out of the house, the first to see the driver of the car hobbling away from the scene. Lennon was the second out, the one that first noticed the tiny body wedged between the car and the telephone pole. Lennon was the first to notice their sister Julie, pronounced dead immediately._

"Got no reason

Got no shame

Got no family

I can blame

Just don't let me disappear

I'ma tell you everything"

Devon used his spare key to get into Ally's house, the pile of her homework and bowl of soup weighing his hands down before he moved to set them down in the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was the disarray, the complete disorganization of the place. He knew Ally's neat-freak mother was away, but Ally was just as bad as her and the mess was still on the floor. He began to pick things up, leaving them on the counter for the family to organize before he heard the first shout. It was a muffled sound, something that set panic in him immediately. Even through the muted air, he could tell that the pitiful sound belonged to Ally, that she was in trouble. He took the stairs by two and stopped at the top of them, looking down the hallway. His glance stopped at the end of the hall, at her parent's open bedroom door. His glance stopped at Ally's father, in a dominant stance at the head of his bed. At first Devon couldn't tell what he was doing, Ally's father blocking the rest of the bed. And then he heard another shout, saw her father's hand connect with her cheek as he began to yell at her again.

"Hey!" He didn't know what he was doing until he had shoved Ally's father away from her, standing between him and the bed, crossing his well-defined arms over his chest. He could tell that Ally's father was sizing him up, was trying to assess his situation. He tried to look behind him at his daughter but Devon put his arms on his shoulders, stabilizing him and his perverted gaze.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Mr. Rodgers."

"You need to leave."

"I don't have to do anything. This is my house, my bedroom, and my daughter."

"I don't think you heard me, Mr. Wesley. You need to leave right now. Or I'll do more than just call the cops on you." Her father stood in place for a while, contemplating his situation. He removed Devon's hands from his shoulders with all of the force he could, shooting a frightening look to his daughter.

"Don't think this is the last you'll see of me. Your mother will never believe you, the police will never believe you. Who would ever believe a teenaged girl like you?" Devon watched her father leave, making sure his black car was out of view before turning to the bed.

Ally hadn't moved since Devon had come in, but now that the argument was over, she wanted nothing more than to hide herself from him. She wanted nothing more than to have his image of her remain the same, not turn into what she was now, half-clothed and forced to the same bed she was sure she had been conceived in. There was no escape, though, and she flinched as he moved toward her. He paused for a moment, a hurt feeling sinking into his chest upon seeing her reaction toward him. She was frightened. He shook it off, reminding himself gently of the situation she had just been in. He continued toward her and she did not flinch so he removed his hoodie, wrapping it around her bare upper half before gathering her in his arms.

He carried her across the same lawn they had spent their childhood crossing, playing tag and hide and seek, building snow forts and having picnics underneath the aged willow on the line separating their properties. This time, though, he did not feel the same giddy feeling he often felt on this lawn. The situation had changed drastically. He let himself into the house and laid her gently onto his own bed, thankful that for now, his mother was at a mommy and me class with his sister. He wanted a moment to deal with this alone, without his mother breathing down his neck.

"I won't let him hurt you again, I promise." He covered Ally with a few blankets and moved to leave the room, leaving her to her own space. Before he could make it out the door, though, he heard his name whispered in a shattered fragment of the same sweet soprano he had spent his childhood growing to love. He sat on the recliner in his room instead and she began to settle into bed more, but she was still tossing and turning, restless and anxious.

"Would you mind if…" She paused for a minute, unsure of how to phrase the question. Every shadow seemed like it would be her father's, every noise a new jolt of a memory. "If I asked you to lay here with me tonight?" He nodded and got up, crossing the room tentatively. She moved over to make room for him and they said nothing. Devon, noticing the fear written on Ally's face, took a change and gathered her in his arms once more. This time she did not flinch, but let herself relax, burying her head in the crook of his neck before dozing off. It finally felt safe enough for her to sleep, but what would become of her in the morning, when she would have to face reality with the morning son poking through Devon's curtains and not her own? When her mother called to talk to her father and Ally would have to reply that he had gone, that not even the police could find him. When her mother asked why the police were looking for him? But for now, she was safe and the questions could remain unanswered, even for just one night of peace.

"_So tell me what you want to hear,_

_Something that'll light those ears_

_I'm sick of all the insincere_

_I'm gunna give all my secrets away._

"_This time, don't need another perfect life_

_Don't care if critics ever jump in line_

_I'm gonna give all my secrets away."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Credit where credit is due:<em>**

**__**Layla's song: If I Die Young by The Band Perry. The cover I used for inspiration is by the Gardiner Sisters on YouTube.

The Group Song: Secrets by OneRepublic. The cover I used for inspiration is by Maddi Jane on YouTube.


	4. Episode 4: Repair

Episode 4:

The leaves danced off of the trees, swirling in his path so that he had to push them away from his face. He kicked one with his foot and watched as the wind picked it up, carrying it away from him as he paused to watch. He unlocked the front door of his house hesitantly, not wanting to leave the beauty of the changing seasons. The weather was beginning to get chillier, his winter coat had been discarded on a higher chair in their newly cleaned kitchen. The first thing he saw when he entered the living room, snack in hand, was the obnoxious red blinking light where the house phone was hung up. Four new messages. He groaned and pressed play, taking off his sneakers for a bit and letting himself prop his feet up on the coffee table.

"Hello, this is R and R credit for Mr. Ethan Brown concerning an overdue bill. If he could give us a call that would be fantastic. Thank you." The machine beeped and Asher groaned, rising from his place on the couch and beginning to pace. The machine kept going.

"Hello, Mr. Brown. It's 3:57 and we're calling about the check you were supposed to mail this past week. It hasn't arrived yet. Give us a call and we can sort this out. Thank you."

"There's been trouble with your payments coming in late. If you can't get them to us promptly we'll have to take action." Asher threw his plate to the ground, watching it shatter as a semi-satisfied feeling crept across him. It was soon replaced, however, with one of anger, of sadness and of discontentment. How could this happen so soon?

"Stupid sons of a bitch!" In his pacing, he had forgotten about the glass that had shattered on the floor. He grunted and cursed, fighting back a stray tear as he pulled the piece of hard material from his foot. As he moved to the bathroom, he left a trail of his own blood behind him, not really caring. He could clean it up when he had time. It's not like anybody would be home to see it, anyway. He was used to being alone.

(…)

"Good morning, cutie. I hope you slept well." The tiny brunette cooed at the young girl, who smiled brightly at her. The girl stuck her thumb in her mouth, reaching her other hand to the older girl who picked her up and brought her downstairs. The smell of pancakes reached her nose and the brunette cracked a smile, clearing her throat to let the others know that she was entering the room.

A middle-aged woman was working at the stove, turning pancakes meticulously. She heard the stirring upstairs and took in a deep breath, trying desperately to prepare for another morning. When the tiny brunette entered with the young girl she turned back to her work after flashing her a cautious grin. Things had been this way for around a week.

"Good morning, Ally. Thanks for getting Holly up, I know she's fussy in the morning."

"No problem, Mrs. Rodgers. She wasn't bad at all this morning, actually. She's in a great mood." Ally sat the three year old on her lap and began to fix her hair, talking in a hushed, light voice all the while. She liked being able to help out with Holly. It took her mind off of things for a while, gave her a distraction. Taking care of Holly made her feel normal again, made her feel as though she had a purpose. The blonde on her lap giggled as she talked to her and Ally felt her insides warm. She had always had a soft spot for Devon's little sister. She finished her hair and made the blonde turn around to face her so that she could admire her work. Another stir could be heard upstairs and Holly's face lit up. She sprung from Ally's lap and ran to the doorway, almost colliding with the much larger man who had just entered. He threw his bag by the door and took his seat at the kitchen table, trying desperately to take his eyes off of Ally, who sat across from him. He was tackled by his little sister, who was now twirling in front of him and chatting animatedly. She wore a pink dress and polka dotted tights, her hair bouncing along in pigtails set high on her head. He smiled at her appearance and gave her a kiss on the cheek, his mother crossing the kitchen to put plates of pancakes in front of them.

From the outside, it looked like a typical morning in the Rodger's household. From the outside, everything seemed the way it always was, Ally playing with Holly and their dog Jester, making small talk with his mother in the kitchen. Sometimes, on these normal mornings, Ally would even help his mother make pancakes while his stepfather grabbed one before hurrying out the door. They would joke about him always being late and then Ally would wait for Devon before they rode up to school together in his car. Today, however, was not one of those typical mornings. Nothing had been typical in Ally's life the past week, ever since she'd made the temporary move over to Devon's house.

Devon talked to his mother about it the day after the incident, the day she poked her head into his room to find the two curled up in his bed. At first his mother had been furious, had thought the worst of her son and his best friend upon seeing them together like that. When she found out, though, everything changed. When Ally woke up the morning after the incident, she was alone. Devon had already gone downstairs to talk to his mother, to ask her what they should do next. They weren't going to let Ally home, they knew that much. At least not until her mother came home from business. They stepped along the lines of calling her cousin, her girl best friend who lived on the other side of town. They decided against it, though. The situation was tough already, getting family involved at a point where so little could be done and with Ally still so fragile seemed to be asking for trouble. Instead, they decided on letting her live with them, on having her take the place they had open in their guest room.

Ally was more than fine with the situation; Going back to the house across the lawn would only remind her of the incident, of the things her father had done to her leading up to the worst situation. Some things about this arrangement, however, did not stick well with her. When she wanted to be alone, there was always someone on her tail, always someone there making sure she was fine. Devon was an issue within itself. She hadn't wanted anything along these lines to happen. Sure, he was her best friend and that meant that he would be helping her through the situation but it was a lot more than that to her. To Ally, Devon had become more than just the dorky boy next door. He had become more than her best friend.

She stepped cautiously into his car that morning for the first time in four days. Today would be her return to school, her dodging questions awkwardly and trying to fit back into her schedule. Today would be the day she would begin to try and forget. He slid in the driver's seat, his hand hovering near the ignition.

"Are you sure you want to go today? I'm sure it'll be fine for you to miss one more day." She loved that he cared, but Ally shook her head in protest, a bit annoyed at his persistence. "I'll be fine. If I tell them I was sick why will they have any reason to think anything of it? I'm sure this entire thing will blow over soon enough." She was an optimist. She had always been an optimist. But today, her optimism was fake. Today she felt as though she would never be able to escape her classmate's questions.

(…)

The students chatted to each other excitably. The previous Friday, they had been told by Grenwich that this week would be special. Today, they were going to find out. They were separated into their regular groups, but when he entered, Devon's had an added person as well as a missing person. The missing person was Ally, who hadn't yet come into the classroom. His mother had called her down to the office to see if she was alright and she was thankful, able to dodge what she knew would be the class of questions for a while longer.

The added person was tall, with auburn hair and light blue eyes hidden slightly by her bangs. She wore a white shirt and a simple pair of jeans, and was talking to Layla and Jenna as though she'd known them forever. It made him a bit angry, thinking they had seemed to replace Ally so quickly. To Devon, this girl was nothing more than someone who looked a bit like her, someone who didn't have the qualities he loved so much about Ally. He walked up to their group cautiously, taking his usual seat next to Jenna and covering the empty seat next to him with his backpack. He didn't want the new girl getting any ideas of taking her seat as well.

"Hey guys." It was simple and a bit emotionless, his greeting. The girls didn't seem to take notice, attributing his plain attitude to the fact that he didn't have the tiny brunette sitting next to him like usual.

"Hey Devon. This is Emily. She's been in the class a while but she just introduced herself. She's one of the other contending soloists for sectionals." He nodded at her, not really sure of what to think. Part of him wanted to accept this girl, to add her to their group with open arms. The other part, however, wanted nothing more to tell her off, to let her know that any sort of position she would be trying to take up in their group would be filled by Ally soon enough. He bit his tongue, though, nodding politely and letting them continue their conversation.

"Emily?" The voice was light, one he was so used to hearing. She was behind him, pushing his bag off of her chair and letting her own replace it. Ally smiled at the newcomer, wrapping her in a hug. "I keep forgetting you're in here!"

"I was going to introduce you but I can see you've met." Layla joked, sitting down in her seat as she watched the clock tick closer to the final bell.

"Yeah, Emily and I are cousins, actually. On my mom's side."

"The fun side." They laughed, sharing a joke that was clearly from the inside. Devon sighed, letting his guard down. He had just been wary, that's all. He just had to remind himself that not everyone was going to hurt her. Not everyone was going to be as vicious as her father.

"Ok, quiet down!" The commanding female presence closed the door to the classroom as soon as the final bell rang. Opting out of her usual place at the podium, she chose the piano bench as a seat, letting her gaze scan her rows of curious, excited students. "I know I promised you a surprise, but I'm not sure how great it'll be now that I've thought about it. Should I still let you know what it is?"

Murmurs of various pleadings rang throughout the classroom and she laughed upon seeing around thirty pairs of eyes now shining with curiosity. She didn't want to let them down, but she tossed her brown hair over one shoulder and moved from her seat, beginning to pace around the room. The dramatic pause she was taking meaning to tease them, to stir up an anxiety in the room over the news.

"As you know, sectionals is more than fast approaching. This month is crunch time, time to really figure out a set list. We have some stiff competition, but I know we can turn this into a really interesting competition."

"How are we going to do that?" One of her students, a tenor who liked to sit near the back of the class and normally kept to himself, was the first to shout out. She grinned at him.

"Glad you asked. Due to the volume of last week's lesson, this week will be lighter. We're looking for songs to sing at sectionals. I want you to really think about this. We need something that has opportunity for small solos but will be fun for us to perform and for the judges to watch. We don't want them falling asleep over there." The class laughed and she pulled a sheet of white lined paper out of her teaching folder, beginning to read down her list of 'Competition Don'ts.'

"No Journey. The glee club over in Lima does enough Journey for all of us combined. Something that can feature all of you. Something with a good beat, and something that will showcase how much fun we have together as a group. We'll go for a ballad at another time, but for now try and focus on a group song. Best song will get some sort of reward or bump in grade, I haven't decided on it yet. No theme, nothing but a fun song. Any questions?" She had already lost her class. They were conversing in their groups, throwing out the names of songs they had heard on the radio or on some random websites. Half of them had already pulled out their iPods, scrolling through their song lists and sharing earbuds. Ally had her iPod out, but both earbuds were in. She was trying desperately to find a fitting song, throwing herself into this assignment in attempts to forget everyone's questioning looks.

"Ally!" From beside her, Layla had been shouting to get Ally's attention for a minute now. When her friend finally turned toward her, she seemed withdrawn, not at all interested in talking to her although they hadn't seen each other in four days. "Are you ok? Why haven't you been in school?"

"I was sick. Really, really sick." She left it at that, putting her headphones back in and shutting her eyes, closing herself off from her friends for the first time in her life.

(…)

"Why are you hiding?" Oliver crossed paths with the younger blonde, tugging on her arm so that she would follow him to his car in the parking lot. She yanked her arm away and held her books to her chest defensively, casting her gaze to the pavement as her feet hit it, making clicking noises along with her shoes.

"I'm avoiding someone."

"Who do I have to beat up now?" Bridgette managed a small smile at her brother's defensive tone but shook her head, maintaining her silence. "Did someone find out, or-"

"Nobody found out."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing, really. I'm probably just over-thinking things again." They walked a little longer in less than comfortable silence, Oliver not really sure what to say to make his sister feel better. This was, after all, something she would have to carry with her for the rest of her life.

"Is it Kyle?"

"Sort of. But you know what, I'm not going to bother getting caught up in any of this. I said before that I was done with Kyle and I meant it. If he doesn't want to raise a child with me then I can do it on my own." She didn't say anything else, didn't let another detail of her Kyle debacle through. The drama that plagued her with this baby was rooted far deeper than a semi-long-time boyfriend and a mistake she made while in a stable relationship. Her debacle went much farther than she was about to let her brother discover.

(…)

Every day at three-o'clock sharp, Asher made sure he was parked in the lot at his brother's elementary school. On this particular day he was rushed, wanting nothing more than to collect his brother and go home, to avoid as much human confrontation as possible. By two fifty-nine, he was already making his way into the building, signing into the office and heading down to his brother's classroom to collect him. He had found early on that his teacher liked this best, that the administration of his brother's elementary school didn't look at him with such a judgmental eye if he cared enough to walk his brother from his classroom, to say hello to his teacher.

Zane's classroom was at the end of the hallway, in the clutter of four fifth-grade classrooms that were built in a neat square. Zane had mentioned to him time and time again that he loved really being in the older section of the school, loved being considered an older kid although he looked much younger than he really was. 'Cheer up, buddy.' He'd begun to say 'I was the same way when I was your age.' Zane had never seemed so prideful in his small stature.

When the bell rang, children cluttered the hallways of the elementary, boys racing to the bus while the calmer, more collected girls walked alongside their friends, rambling on about the latest episode of their favorite television show or their newest little crush. Asher avoided them all with delicacy, not wanting to disturb their usual pattern. He made a beeline for the door farthest down the hall, the one lined with cut outs of koala bears with the children's faces plastered on them. They had always been Zane's teacher's obsessions, koala bears. He smiled upon seeing proof of her love and knocked lightly on the door, noticing his brother's eyes light up. Zane jumped up from his seat, where he had been collecting his things, and raced over to his brother, engulfing him in a hug.

"Get your bags and let's get going, buddy." He ruffled Zane's hair and his brother pretended to be annoyed, hiding a smile as he raced to throw his things in his book bag.

"Take your time, Zane. I want to talk to your brother for a while." The little brunette's smile fell and he moved slower, trying his hardest to strain his ears so that he could listen to their 'adult conversation.'

"What's up Mrs. C?" No matter how much she pleaded, the old woman sitting at the teacher's desk could not get Asher to call her by her first name. He thought it was a strange thing to ask of a former student, of someone who walked these very halls the same age as Zane coming back. Calling this teacher by her first name seemed too strange, so Asher politely avoided her requests.

"I would like to talk to your parents privately about some things that have been going on in the classroom lately. Is there any way we can arrange a meeting this weekend?" Asher had become quick to lie in the two weeks he had been forced to change his life around. He shook his head coolly and pulled out his cellphone, bringing up a calendar.

"There isn't this weekend, they've scheduled all of their appointments. You could always just talk to me, if that's alright. I do spend a lot of my time with Zane anyway. I'm trying to grow to be a good influence in his life. Anything about him can go through me, I'm really trying to work with Zane for my parent's sake."

She didn't believe a second of his lies. Edith Cadogen had always found a certain skill in detecting false confidence. Asher's however, was much harder to detect than others. She had to admit that he had gotten good throughout the years. She didn't let him notice her discovery but turned to her calendar, picking out a day for them to sit down. A day she could finally find out just what was going on at the Brown household.

"How's this weekend? We'll meet over lunch?"

"That's fine, Mrs. C. Thank you so much." Zane finished packing his bag and clung to his older brother, following him down the hallway at rapid, excitable speed while he rambled on about his day. Asher, however, could not keep to the conversation long. Something about the teacher's tone told him that she knew too much.

(….)

It seemed as though there was an opening in the club, a place for someone to rise up and become a leader. Clearly Ally wasn't taking her usual coveted place any more, and Vera had begun to take notice in her same vindictive way. It was unusual, nobody being there to rally everybody else on, and Vera wasn't about to let this prime opportunity pass her by.

Somehow, she had managed to rally a few girls and the same anxious, tenor who normally sat in the back to perform with her. Now, their rag-tag little group stood in front of the classroom, half confident but mostly radiating their nervousness. Vera, however, had already become very into being in charge of a group even if they were this small. She stood tall, emitting enough confidence to span their group twice.

"In the order of the usual introductions we seem to make to our songs, I'd like to say that I was really focused on fun for this song. Mostly on trying to get rid of this awful feeling that's been floating around in here lately because quite frankly it sucks and I'm sick and tired of everyone constantly acting sick and tired. So I rounded up a few of the less heard voices and we're going to try and bring you back to life again."

The adorable, nerdy tenor began with his acoustic guitar, playing Vera in. His smile grew quickly as the club recognized the song, bobbing their heads to the beat. His confidence beginning to soar. Vera took the opening line, holding onto the mic in their room as if she were a pop-star at a concert and the class were her adoring fans. The two other girls performing with her tried not to roll their eyes, but that was a seemingly impossible task. The girl sitting next to their nerdy tenor, also playing guitar, snickered. When Vera got into a performance, she really got into it.

"_Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah. _

_I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, _

_oh no I get a good feeling."_

Their adorable tenor, merely a sophomore and barely recognized by his fellow club members, pushed his guitar away and grabbed another mic, beginning to rap while dancing around the room to the best of his ability. He knew he was seen as a dork and so he played it up as much as he could, inciting laughter from the group as he paraded around, continuing to rap.

"_Yes I can, doubt that I leave, I'm running with this plan_

_Pull me, grab me, crabs in the bucket can't have me_

_I'll be the president one day_

_January 1st, oh, you like that gossip_

_Like Like you the one drinking that god sip dot com_

_Now I gotta work with your tongue_

_How many Rolling Stones you want?_

_Yeah I got a brand new spirit,_

_Speak it and it's done_

_Woke up on the side of the bed like I won_

_Talk like a winner, my chest to that sun_

_G5 dealer, US to Taiwan_

_I hope you say that, I wanna play back_

_Mama knew I was a needle in a hay stack_

_A body boy, plus Maybach_

_I got a feeling it's a wrap, ASAP"_

He finished and this time, Vera let someone else have the mic for the chorus. Emily stepped up with more confidence than she had before, the boy who had just finished rapping setting a sort of can-do spark within her. She flipped her auburn hair so that her bangs would move from her face and slipped on a pair of sunglasses, keeping up the cool façade they had begun to portray. The class chuckled and she began to sing, bringing a sense of incredible exhilaration along with her. She too had noticed the club's falling, depressing attitudes. Before she had been asked to perform with Vera, she had made it her mission to cheer them up. When the opportunity presented itself, she couldn't say no. Vera and the boy sang back up to her and she moved to his microphone, singing along with him and pressing their heads together dramatically. She loved putting on a good show, and this dorky boy fell right into her performance.

"_Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah. _

_I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, _

_oh no I get a good feeling._

_Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah. _

_I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, _

_oh no I get a good feeling, yeah."_

The rest of the class began to rise from their seats, dancing around the choir room and singing along with Vera, Emily, and the tenor. Their mission of cheering the class up definitely seemed to be successful. By the time the song ended they were laughing, smiling and dancing with each other. Some had picked up their respective instruments and were playing along while others added simple harmonies. Most of the class felt right at home in this group, where they could have jam sessions like this and not be made fun of. Others, however, still felt the blues sink in. Sometimes, it takes more than a song to fix the worst of problems.

(…)

"Let's talk." Edith gestured to the seat across from her and Asher took it hesitantly. Instead of lunch, they had settled for going out to talk over coffee instead, a moment where Zane would be too occupied with soccer practice to notice the irregularity in his schedule.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Your situation." Asher let his gaze drift warily down to the coffee he was holding, let its heat travel through the hands that were gripping the plastic cup tightly. Suddenly, this seemed more interesting to his old teacher sitting across from him. He looked up stealthily, his eyes wandering around the café for a quick escape. It was no use, though. She would still tell the police. The only way out was his classic lying, what he had been doing from the day this had all begun.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You can cut the crap because I can see right through you, Asher." To hear his old elementary school teacher say even a mildly bad word like crap stirred something inside of him, made this seem like it was real, like she was not going to put up with him the way everybody else did. Dejected, Asher laid his head in his hand, pushing his hair back and sighing. He moved to reach for his coffee but paused, pushing the hot liquid away from himself. He was no longer in the mood.

"How much do you know?"

"Not much, actually." Reaching behind her, Edith moved her bag so that it sat between them on the table. For a moment it was silent, the teacher focused solely on trying to find something in the deep teacher's bag she liked to carry around with her. When she found the object she was still silent, placing it on the table and pushing it toward him. It was a composition notebook, one covered in stickers of superheroes and soccer balls, Zane's name clearly printed on the front.

"His school journal. His entries have been peaking my interest for a while now. A few stood out to me, really." She reached over and held the book in her fragile, slightly wrinkled hands and began to leaf through the pages.

"_Today will be a good day. Today my brother is going to take me to skate park and try to teach me some new things. He even said I could use the skateboard he loves most! It's been like this since mom and dad left for vacation. I don't know why he's been acting so nice lately but I like it. My brother doesn't scare me any more. I want my brother to be my friend." _

"_Mom and dad still aren't home but Asher is taking really good care of me. When I came home he was wearing new pants and he cut his hair and now he shaves a lot of the hair off of his face and wears smelly cologne. The house is clean now and it's different. I didn't remember what the table or the floor looked like but now I can see them and Asher said he's going to put a basketball hoop in the front yard. I miss mom and dad though. The house is nice but there's not a whole lot of mom and dad left in the house. It's weird."_

"_There are weird people calling now and Asher says to ignore them but it doesn't sound like they're not going to stop soon. He told me he's looking for a job but that it's hard and that he likes how we can have lunch at school because it's hard to have food at home. I don't know where mom and dad are still but Asher says they keep making vacation long. I don't know why they don't want to see us but he says they needed to be away for a while. I don't know if I believe him anymore." _Edith closed the journal and Asher moved the sleeve of his new collared shirt to his eye, dabbing away the salty liquid that had formed and began to trail down his cheek in tiny, warm droplets.

"He knows more than I give him credit for. He's a smart kid."

"They're not coming back are they?"

"No."

"They're not alive are they?"

"They are. Well, I think-They seem like….I don't know." His response came in choked bits and pieces. For the first time in his life, Asher had been caught off guard.

"Why haven't you told anyone?"

"And what, have them take Zane away? He's so young, this shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't have to go through this. I don't want him to bounce from house to house in the system when he has me." Silence. Asher brought the hot coffee to his lips and sipped, now glad to feel its scorching temperature engulf him in its comfort.

"I have to report this situation, Asher. I'm sorry." He simply stared back at Edith, shaking his head and taking another sip of portable, caffeinated comfort.

"I figured as much. Listen, I have to go. Zane's getting out of soccer practice soon and I have to go pick him up. Thanks for listening." He left Edith in the café that day, and as the bell on the door announced his departure, Edith Cadogen pulled out her dated cell phone, preparing to make a very important call.

(…)

"Hey, wait up!" The younger boy turned, finding a larger, more toned boy trying to weed his way through the crowd to catch up with him. He found it peculiar but said nothing, merely waiting until the other caught up with him. "You're the tenor that played guitar for Vera's song in glee yesterday, right?"

"Michael."

"Devon."

"So what's up? I didn't really think an upper-classmen would want to talk to a lowly sophomore. Especially a tenor." Devon laughed in spite of himself. Sure, Michael was a bit scrawny and his voice had yet to change, but from what he heard the previous day, he predicted the boy would soon be one of the top male contenders for solos in the club.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Michael nodded, still taken aback at the fact that one of the more popular guys was talking to him. It wasn't that he was shy, just a bit lonely. Being a sophomore in a group full of upper-classmen just got to him sometimes, dug at the empty spaces in his heart.

"Would you mind just playing guitar for a while? Having a…a sort of jam session with me?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but why?"

"A friend once told me that a good song can get a person through anything. And this week has sort of been hell for the two of us."

"Are you going to sing it to her?"

"I don't think so. Things are…awkward right now. I just need to get it out of my system, I think. We'll call it testing her theory."

The set-up was a bit awkward, but it would have to work. They were in the living room of Devon's house, his sister tucked in for a nap and his mother and step-father at work. Ally stayed in the guest room most of her time now. Michael had his acoustic guitar and, like Devon, his voice. They prepared their venting session, Michael strumming a few loose, hasty chords before figuring out how the song went.

"I remember tears streaming down your face

When I said, "I'll never let you go"

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone"

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight…"

_He could still see the incident clear in his mind. An image like that was hard to shake and as much as he wanted to, he could not seem to stop the constant stream of nightmares that had begun to effect his sleeping pattern. These, though, were much worse than the situation. In these he never got to her in time. In his nightmares, there was always a lock, an impenetrable force keeping him away from her. As desperately as he tried, he could not save Ally in the world of his dreams. _

"Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You'll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I'll be safe and sound"

_They had a backwards kind of night, Asher and Zane. He made Zane pancakes for breakfast, let him drink chocolate milk from the carton. He and Zane stayed up to watch reruns of old Disney movies, to laugh and talk and wrestle. This was their night of being boys, of being brothers. Watching Zane laugh, Asher smiled to himself. Now, his guard was up. There was uncertainty, something pushing for Asher to be the best brother he could possibly be. He didn't know. They could wake up and find everything gone, to be whisked away from each other. If any night was going to be their last together, Asher wanted more than anything to make it special, memorable._

"Don't you dare look out your window darling

Everything's on fire

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Hold onto this lullaby

Even when the music's gone

Gone."

_The waking world was becoming too similar to his dreams. She had become more distant with each passing day. She barely talked, barely ate. Allyson Wesley was no longer present in his house, merely a ghost of her former self. It scared him how unresponsive she was. She had thrown herself into the care of his sister, into cleaning and homework and anything that could keep herself as far away from him as possible. Everything, it seemed, was ruined. Every ounce of effort he had put into attempting to flirt with her, in getting her to see that he like her, was erased. It was as though Devon and Ally had to start from ground zero, from being complete strangers. They had never been to ground zero before. Ally had been his best friend from the day she was born. He could not save her now. Things were not as simple as the first night, the night she had let her guard down and let him hold her until she fell asleep. Things were not like the last night she felt safe._

"Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You'll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I'll be safe and sound"

_There was heavy knocking on the door, bright lights shining through the drawn shades into the living room. Both boys sprang from their seats but Asher soon pushed Zane back down, telling him to stay put. Trying to be discreet, he drew back the shade to see who was knocking. The lights that shone on the hardwood floor were flashing red and blue, only a bit of stable yellow from headlights. _

"Oooh, Oooh, Oooh, Oooh

La La (La La)

La La (La La)

Oooh, Oooh, Oooh, Oooh

La La (La La)"

She was stirred from her daydream by the sound of the music, drawn toward the soft voices floating from the living room, the angelic guitar chords. She paused in the doorway to watch, to be caught in the moment. Devon and the tenor from glee club were sitting, just singing. The sound of their voices seemed to rush through her, to wrap her in the comfort she usually felt around Devon. The comfort she had been pushing away.

"_Asher, who is it?" They burst through the door with as much force as they could muster, the first man in the large group grabbing him before he could get near his brother. He struggled, tried to see what was going on. A sea of black leather separated him from the ten year-old, who was now questioning the men as they led him carefully out the door. _

"_We didn't want to cause a scene." The man was talking to him, he realized. The man was trying to make things better. He was making excuses, _apologizing. _The bastard. "But we did a background check on your family and action had to be taken. We just have to take you in, ask you a few questions. You can return home after but because your brother is a minor we'll have to keep him in custody for a while. Come with me please." The situation was a blur, a flash of lights and leather and his feet on the gravel, carrying him mindlessly to the car where he was shoved in the back. They were treating him like a criminal. He wasn't a criminal. Hell, he was trying to help. Anything that would keep his brother with him._

"Safe and sound..."

* * *

><p>My characters won't let me make them happy. I'm sorry.<p>

**Credit where credit is due:**

The first song: Good Feeling: Originally by Flo Rida, I used the cover by Megan Nicole ft. Eppic on YouTube for inspiration.

The last song: Safe and Sound: Originally by Taylor Swift, I used the Megan Nicole and Tiffany Alvord cover on YouTube for inspiration.


End file.
